Butterfly Effect
by theACEbabana
Summary: [This is the story-only archive for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. Expect infrequent updates and chapters of varying length. Be a part of the quest on Spacebattles!] You are Taylor Hebert, Earth Bet's only Persona User and Wild Card, to boot. This can't possibly go wrong. Alt!Power Taylor.
1. 1-1: The Story Begins

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.1 - The Story Begins

Sunday January 2nd, 2011

Time: Afternoon  
Weather: Snow  
Moon: Waning, 2 Days to New Moon (1/4); 17 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

 _-Line Break-_

I hate holiday music.

Let me clear away some misunderstanding. I'm an atheist, but that doesn't mean I harbor any ill will towards non-denominational Judeo-Christian system of beliefs, or any for that matter. Not even for the Church of Scion, despite their constant pestering at the door. I'm totally fine with individuals putting their faith in a higher power since it's what humanity has done since the beginning of known history. It's psychologically comforting to know that after a lifetime's hardships that a better place awaits us after death.

That being said, what I don't like about Christmas music is the fact that it gets up in my face. "Good tidings" this, "Joy to the World" that, it just grates on my ears, the overly optimistic tunes and ballads. And it doesn't even stop after the holiday passed. I mean, look! It's the New Year's holiday sale at the Market, and I can still hear the off-tune warbles of "Christmas Time Is Here".

I think that most people would think of me as a Scrooge or a soulless, cynical prick if I ever made my thoughts known.

Well excuse my family for being in a financial crisis and my being not able to enjoy them properly because of aforementioned crisis.

Dad knows more than anyone that money is tight nowadays, yet he still gave me thirty dollars to go spend for the New Year. Thirty dollars, at least three weeks worth of groceries if we stretchered it thin enough, and he gave it all to me to splurge for myself. And it wasn't something I could refuse. I get it. Things haven't been the greatest between me and Dad, but I had to give him credit. He was trying to connect to me, but I had serious doubts about his success without telling him about all the crap that was going on at Winslow. He had enough worrying to do on behalf of the Dockworker's Association, and I wasn't ready to come out with what I've been going through.

So, here I am, money I shouldn't be spending inside my wallet, suffering through Christmas carols on a bench in the middle of Lord Street Market. Tomorrow was a school day, the first day back to the living hell that was Winslow,

I should...

[ ] Go shopping for school supplies. The Terrible Trio did a number on my notebooks and art supplies last semester. Thirty dollars worth of loose leaf, pens, sketch pads and other items should set me for the next quarter or so. I won't even bring everything to school, so at least some of my supplies are safe.

[ ] Buy something for Dad. Thirty dollars is a small budget to spend on something, but then again, Dad's the kind of person who values practicality over ornamentation. Maybe one of those engraved things he can use at work, as a gesture of my appreciation. A pen? Pocket knife? The possibilities...

[ ] Splurge. I'm following Dad's orders, so it's perfectly alright to spend for myself. I'm probably not gonna get something expensive with only thirty dollars, but hey, I can at least get myself a new hoodie that doesn't smell like grape juice. Gotta see the silver linings.

[ ] Write-in.


	2. 1-2: Chance Encounters

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.2 - Chance Encounters

Sunday January 2nd, 2011

Time: Afternoon  
Weather: Snow  
Moon: Waning, 2 Days to New Moon (1/4); 17 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

 _-Line Break-_

[X] ...go shopping for school supplies. The Terrible Trio did a number on my notebooks and art supplies last semester. Thirty dollars worth of loose leaf, pens, sketch pads and other items should set me for the next quarter or so. I won't even bring everything to school, so at least some of my supplies are safe.

There were plenty of big-name retailers in the area that offered discounts on school supplies. I ended up visiting more than one to check out the deals and discounts available, burning a significant part of my day running back and from the stores. Let it be said that I take great lengths to make my money stretch as far as it could, but if you had to deal with girls like the Trio on a near day-to-day basis, then you'd probably end up doing so as well. Actually, 'girls' was stretching the term a bit far, but I'm too much of a nice person to resort to other derogatory terms. For now, at least.

Blank notebooks from Office Cache, college-ruled loose leaf from Paperclips, and a wide assortment of pens and pencils Gabriel's. And the best part? I still had enough for future projects and other odds and ends that I would need if the occasion called. Necessity always trumped desire, and in this case, it trumped it hard into the dirt. Taylor - 1. Consumerism - 0.

Do you know how hard it is to walk though a mall on the day after New Year's? Especially when there's a sale? While it isn't as bad as Black Friday (where people _died_ ), the Market was still crowded with irate customers, stressed out parents, kids with too much free time on their hands and access to daddy's credit card, and an odd mix of all three. Needless to say, it was a struggle. I made the conscious effort of saying "excuse me" and mumbling apologies if I accidentally nudged someone.

There was one more store I had to go, the only one that carried sketchbooks that my art teacher approved of. The last store before I could go home, take a well-deserved tea break, and surf the PHO on Dad's laptop.

But knowing me, I should have expected my good fortune to run out. Just as I was about to go around the rear, the automatic doors of the exit suddenly swung outwards, clipping me in the back and sending my body sprawling onto the ground. Plastic gave way, sending office supplies spilling on the floors of the Market. Even though my face was kissing the cold tile, I still could hear off-hand sneering and chortles in response to my accident. I sighed. That was tame in comparison to what the Trio did. Really tame.

I think it says something about me when I call jeers and laughter aimed at my troubles 'tame'.

The sound of footsteps approaching prompted me to peel my face off the floor. With one knee on the ground, a thin man dressed in a casual white suit was gathering my supplies in a neat pile beside me. Black hair tumbled back from his head in a style no one would dare call feminine, and his eyes glinted with a paternal air. I couldn't peg his age. His features were timeless and rather ordinary-looking, but if prompted for a guess, I'd say that he was in his mid-twenties or early thirties.

"I am so sorry," he said in a gentle alto, looking genuinely aggrieved as he gathered the scattered items. "It's been many years since I've been out in the world. Concentration on my task is no excuse for me to ignore my other surroundings. I do hope you find yourself able to forgive me." As soon as he finished, he extended a hand out to me.

...wow. I didn't know that there was anyone alive or outside of films made in the thirties that talked like he did.

I stared at the offered hand before replying. "Uh...that's alright," I managed to get out, extending my own hand out. "Thanks for helping me-"

He smiled. "It was my fault to begin with. The least I could do was fix my blunder-"

The second our hands made contact, I felt something like a jolt of electricity course along my arm and spread through out my body. I reflexively yelped and withdrew my hand. Oh, wow. Now that makes me look like an ungrateful bitch. Way to go, Taylor. Way to effing go.

But oddly enough, the man didn't seem to take my apparent rudeness to deeply. His eyes were upward and his mouth was pursed, a sign of deep pondering if I ever saw one.

"Is this chance...or is it fate?" He whispered to himself. I blinked, and what looked like a deck of cards suddenly rested in the palm of his hand. After what seemed like a few moments of mental deliberation, he nodded, satisfied with himself, and his attention returned to me. He smiled once again. "I am the proprietor of a small fortune store down the mall outlet. Young lady, would you like for me to read your fortune? Free of charge," he reassured me, as if in anticipation for some form of rebuttal. "Consider this my way of making up for my blunder. If you like, I can perform the reading from a nearby table?"

My mind went somewhere for a brief second before I responded...

[ ] "Uh...sure? Why not? It looks like there's a free table over there." This shopping trip took a turn for the weird, but hey, it's a free fortune telling. The worst that could happen was getting weird stares from passerby, right?

[ ] "...where's your store? I don't remember anything related to fortune telling opening up anywhere near the mall." The guy didn't seem to be lying, but I want to see evidence of actual existence before I get my fortune 'read'.

[ ] "Not to be rude, mister, but are you leading me on?" Fortune telling? Pft. What a joke. The extend of my belief in it doesn't extend beyond Chinese Fortune Cookies, and even in their case, my suspension of disbelief struggles to operate.


	3. 1-3: Reading the Fine Print

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.3 - Reading the Fine Print

Sunday January 2nd, 2011

Time: Afternoon  
Weather: Snow  
Moon: Waning, 2 Days to New Moon (1/4); 17 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

 _-Line Break-_

[x] "Uh...sure? Why not? It looks like there's a free table over there." This shopping trip took a turn for the weird, but hey, it's a free fortune telling. The worst that could happen was getting weird stares from passerby, right?

By some sheer happenstance, there was an unoccupied table in a food court that was bursting at the seams. After wiping the initial detritus that the previous tenants had left on the surface, I took my seat. The fortune teller asked me if he could buy me a hot beverage. I politely declined, both out of the fact that I wasn't thirsty and out of the principal to not accept drinks from strangers, no matter how polite they seem to be. Actually, scratch that. Especially if they seem to be polite. You never know...

The cards in the man's hand danced as he performed a wide variety of tricks as he shuffled the deck. Memories of watching magicians at childhood birthday parties came to the front of the mind, as well as the names of the techniques they had performed. Ribbon Spread. Chandelier Cut. Card Spring. The guy had some serious talent. There were even a few wide-eyed kids staring from strollers and behind their parents' legs. I tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible when they got their guardians to look at our table, a feat that was aided by the man by another flourish and a faux-bow to the kids, who clapped in delight.

As soon as the spectacle was over, his attention returned to me. "The moment mankind devoured the fruit of knowledge, he sealed his fate," he intoned, sliding the deck towards me. "Entrusting his future in the cards, man clings to a dim hope. The Arcana is the means by which all things are revealed. It is only by your own will that we shall see the paths you have trodden, are walking, and will take in the days to come. Please shuffle the cards."

The cards were unexpectedly heavy in my hands, but felt smooth and warm to the touch. I shuffled the cards as best as I could, confidence slowly entering the movements of my hands as I fell into a familiar rythm. I haven't touched a deck of cards for a long time, much less a...tarot deck, was it? Unlike the standard playing cards that most people tended to play at school, those of the French Suit, Tarot cards were more rectangular in their layout and certainly more artistic in their design. I couldn't see much as the cards flew across my hands, but what I did see prompted my fingers to sketch a few of those beautiful designs.

As soon as I felt I had thoroughly shuffled the deck, I looked to him for the next set of instructions. He gave me a nod of approval and said, "Please cut the deck. The amount of piles you make ultimately falls to your discretion."

I ended up cutting the deck into what seemed to be three equal-looking stacks. Three's a good number, right? It was apparently sacred to a significant number of religions, most notable being the Christianity. Everyone counted to or from three whenever a task required a certain degree of synchronicity. And despite its never happening to me, I couldn't forget the often quoted aphorism of how "the third time's the charm".

"Ah." I was concentrating so hard that his sudden interjection caused me to jump in my seat. "I almost forgot."

From out of his coat pocket, he produced a sheet of paper and laid it in front of the cards. "Before we proceed, I must insist that you sign the contract."

...wait, what?

I frowned and squinted at the words printed across the paper.

 **Contract**

 **Destiny is imminent; it comes for us whether we desire or deny its presence.  
We cannot hide from its sight, nor escape from its wide reach.  
But take comfort, for the end of the journey is never set in stone.  
Man's fate is in his hands.**

 **I, _ , chooseth this fate of my own free will.**

 **Signature Block _**

[ ] "...do you have a pen? I'm not about to open a new packet of writing utensils." This is a first. I've never seen this in any of the Earth Aleph movies, but it did add a certain dramatic flair to the atmosphere. (Sign the contract)

[ ] "What the heck is this?" Was this some kind of elaborate ruse to get my name? 'Stranger danger' bells are going off here, and not in the cape sense... (Give the Fortune Teller a critical look)


	4. 1-4: Reading the Cards, PT1

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.4 - Reading the Cards, Part One

Sunday January 2nd, 2011

Time: Afternoon  
Weather: Snow  
Moon: Waning, 2 Days to New Moon (1/4); 17 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

[X] "What the heck is this?" Was this some kind of elaborate ruse to get my name? 'Stranger danger' bells are going off here, and not in the cape sense... (Give the Fortune Teller a critical look)

Oddly enough, his response was to chortle and give me a wry smile. "I assure you that there is no fine print, young lady. The contract merely binds you to accepting responsibilities for your actions. Such is one of many conditions that makes humans higher beings than the beasts that roam the earth."

Um...what?

Before I could say anything in response to his words, he held up a hand and said, "If it would make you feel more comfortable, you may take the contract upon the conclusion of this divination. As it pertains to only you and destiny, it would be erroneous for me to hold on to it in your place."

The guy crammed more SAT words inside of his sentence than my English teacher. And that was saying something. But I got the gist of it. I could keep the contract with my name on it. Granted, there was still the fact that he would know my name, but it made me a whole lot more relaxed knowing that it would be in my possession.

As if reading my mind, he placed a pen adjacent to the paper. I picked it up, and with a deft motion of my hand, signed it as fast as I could, taking care to make it resemble something that would pass at a credit card scanner, but also endeavoring to make it as illegible as possible.

He looked it over and nodded, apparently satisfied with what I had scribbled. "Do you have any specific question that you wish answered?" he asked as I put the contract in one of the shopping bags. "Or do you wish for me to perform a general reading?"

Nothing really specific stuck out at me, so I ended up requesting for a general reading.

"Then let us begin."

His hands moved fast, reaching from pile to pile and laying the cards down on the table in well-practiced efficiency. There was no hesitation in his steps, no floundering pause between movements. Like his earlier shuffling tricks, his hands and fingers moved with confidence born out of meticulous practice. It was entrancing to watch.

A recognizable form slowly emerged, a cross composed out of six of the cards he placed. The first two cards overlapped in the center while the next four more made the points that defined its shape. Finally, four more cards were vertically arranged adjacent to the main rood.

"The Celtic Cross is one of the more common spreads that you'll see in fortune telling," he explained, gesturing to the completed spread on the table. "But by no means does it make it any less powerful nor profound."

He pointed to the card set in the middle of the cross, laying underneath the second card he placed in the center. "The first placement signifies the present environment, the 'heart' of the matter if you will. It deals with the immediate, the pressing circumstances and surrounding factors, and defines 'you' as you are."

He slid the first card out from under the one that overlapped it and revealed it to me with a deft motion of hand.

"The Two of Swords in the upright position," he revealed. "Notice how the woman stiffly holds the swords to protect herself, fending off any sort of approach. This card symbolizes the emotional barriers we put up between ourselves and those around us, of which the most common is a closed heart. You have cut yourself off from others, and are at a stalemate that needs to be overcome."

...wow. He can get all of that just from a card? Both its depiction and his interpretation were uncannily close to how I actually was. Dad and I haven't been exactly on the best of terms, so it would make sense that such a card would represent me.

Wait a moment...does that mean that fortune telling is actually real? Eh...I'm still chalking it up to coincidence. His words were broad enough to apply to almost any individual in the Bay. Everyone had their secrets that they didn't want to share.

He flipped the next card, and laid it back onto the Two of Swords.

He frowned. "The Devil in the upright position is in the place of that which opposes you. While the Prince of Darkness represents all that is evil in the world, the card itself is a symbol for all things bad and undesirable. Unhealthy and unproductive situations are common interpretations, and due to its alignment as an opposition factor, may be the cause of your present state."

Memories of the past year suddenly came to the front of my mind, everything that Emma, Sophia and Madison had done to me since the beginning of freshman year. All of the bullying, the harassment, the vandalism, the pain.

I felt my fist tighten on reflex and forced myself to give my full attention to the cards on the table. By the time I managed to get both my breath steady and muscles relaxed, the fortune teller moved on to the third card, the bottom-most one of the cross spread.

"The Three of Swords has manifested as the representation of your past," he said somberly, showing its face to me. "In its upright position, its depiction is that of unexpected events that happen to us in life. Betrayal, abandonment, separation. These hurts are painful because they attack us when we least expect them, and leave lasting impacts on our 'hearts'. While I offer my condolences, I cannot claim to know what pains have befallen you. But know that it still hangs over your shoulder as an unconscious influence in your life."

...oh God.

Mom's death...

The sudden rush of emotions at his words almost caused me to miss the next card and his words.

"The Hermit is a reclusive figure that guides individuals to wisdom and understanding," he explained, replacing the card as the left arm of the cross. "Through a life of seclusion of hardship, he reaches understanding and enlightenment and attains inner peace. However, in its reversed position, all of those qualities have become negative and detrimental. Instead of attaining inner peace through a lonely existence, his troubles only multiply and worsen. Cards in this placement symbolize unneeded qualities, behaviors and approaches to life that should be abandoned."

He was right on the money. I couldn't talk to anyone at school. No one would believe me, and even if they did, no one could help. And I couldn't talk to Dad either. We lived in two different worlds, and even if I did manage to open up, it would still cause him to experience pain knowing what I've been through. I wasn't about to put him through that.

He smiled upon seeing the card in the upper section of the spread. "But for all your hardships, you still believe in Justice. Fair outcomes and ethical principals resonate deep within you, as well as a desire to do what you believe is right. I must admit that I did not expect this to appear among the cards, given all of the previous suits' dispositions. That being said, it is not an unpleasant surprise, but an admirable one."

There was something in his eyes that comforted me, slowly easing up the tension that had built up upon the revelations of the other cards. My breathing eased up, and I could feel my muscles relaxing.

But holy shit...this actually might be for real.

Either that, or he's a telepathic cape (like that would ever go unnoticed)...or the Simurgh itself.

"Oh my," he breathed, frowning that the card that lay in the right-most side. "The Tower in its upright position signifies changes, conflicts and catastrophes. I cannot say what awaits you, but be warned: a calamity is in your future, something that will change everything about your way of life."

Finished with the cross, he was about to move to the remaining unknown cards before he frowned, taking a closer look at my face. "Are you well, young lady?" He inquired, concern audible in his voice. "If this reading is in any way discomforting you, then I will stop at your behest. I have no desire to continue if you're upset from what was already revealed."

[ ] "Wh-what? N-no! I'm fine...really, I am. It's my first time doing a tarot reading, so I'm just a little nervous...heh-heh..." (Continue the reading)

[ ] "...it's all hitting close to home...but I think I'm strong enough to continue." (Continue the reading)

[ ] "...could we please stop?" (Stop the reading)


	5. 1-5: Reading the Cards, PT2

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.5 - Reading the Cards, Part Two

Sunday January 2nd, 2011

Time: Afternoon  
Weather: Snow  
Moon: Waning, 2 Days to New Moon (1/4); 17 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

 _-Line Break-_

[X] "...it's all hitting close to home...but I think I'm strong enough to continue." (Continue the reading)

The fortune teller gave me a comforting smile. "You would not the first to be unnerved. It is never easy to face yourself, young miss."

His hand moved to reveal the next card.

"The Hanged Man in the upright position," he declared. "He is the symbol of release, suspense and self-sacrifice. This is the card that represents 'you' as you see yourself: a martyr who wins by surrender. You believe that by being the sole bearer of your sorrows and misfortune, you achieve moral victory. A noble sentiment, but one that I believe is ultimately misguided given the previous cards. Martyrdom is not always the right choice."

Unfortunately, there isn't really anything I can do. I just wasn't the type of person to really lash out in retaliation, and even if I was, I didn't have any power. Emma's dad was a lawyer. Sophia was the star of the track team. Madison was...actually, I really don't know anything about her save for the fact that she's a jerk that just happened to be cute. And really immature about her bullying.

Seriously, what fifteen year old girl in her right state of mind uses juice as a modus operandi of emotional abuse? That had all sorts of psychological connotations that Freud would leap to analyze. But not me, since psychology wasn't offered as an elective until junior year.

But I digress. They had the looks and the assets to completely outmatch me in the public eye. Retaliating would only make me look like a psycho. I didn't want Dad getting a call that his daughter had gone Carrie.

I pulled myself out of my thoughts as he moved to the next card.

He took a moment to clear his throat. I couldn't blame him. He'd been talking nearly non-stop for the past...five, ten minutes? My throat would have been dryer than a Merchant's arteries without his drugs.

He continued, "The High Priestess is the guardian of the unconsciousness. She is introspective and patient, capable of biding great lengths of time in order to achieve her desires. Reversed, she becomes isolated and trapped within herself, incapable of becoming involved and letting events proceed without intervention. Coupled with the Hanged Man of the previous position, this card represents how others see you: passive and able to be taken advantage of."

My hand clenched and my jaw tightened in response to his words. True as they were, he could have worded it better. If his earlier musings didn't prove it, then this definitely separated him from the average fake fortune teller; the ones I've seen in movies were either yes-men that pandered to their clients or shrieked DOOM from the top of their lungs.

That being said, I was still a tad bit upset. Apparently, Dad's temper did pass down to me. I forced it down as best I could and started thinking about more pleasant thoughts. Like the unsoiled art pads just waiting for my pencil. I studied the various designs on the suits as he moved onto the next card.

"To see the Star representing one's hopes and dreams is not uncommon," he said. "Serenity and peace of mind are qualities that the human race desire to attain, though not all will accomplish such tranquility. To put faith in the future and see a light at the end of the metaphorical tunnel have always been desires of those entrapped in the pain of living without purpose."

Yeah, but again, even if there was a light at the end of the tunnel...

Let's just say that I've tripped more than once getting there. And had stalactites fall on my head. And there's still no visible exit or source of light at the end of the tunnel.

As he revealed the remaining face-down card, I could see the corner of his mouth tugging into the shape of a bemused smile. "How interesting…the card that represents your overall future is one that seldom appears in its place."

He replaced the card in the formation before explaining, "The Fool is given his name not through stupidity, but through ignorance and naivety of the world around him. In the numerical order of the Major Arcana, his position is that of the number zero. He is empty and void, but at the same time full of infinite possibility and capable of great things. He symbolizes the beginning of life's journey, unaware of the hardships that await him, yet eagerly strides forth to meet them.

"Your future holds the Tower and the Fool, the immediate and the overall. Should you overcome the first of many disasters, a new point in your life's story shall commence, the beginning of a strange journey into a brave new world.

"Now remember," he intoned as he swept up the spread into a neat pile and reshuffled them into the deck. "Man's future is not set in stone. I cannot deliver a destination nor an outcome as to where your path leads, for the road is paved entirely by your choices. Nevertheless, I will respect the decisions you make, regardless of where they take you."

He stuffed the cards back into a pocket inside his coat and cleared his throat. "And that concludes this session. I hope that it was to your liking, young lady. I wish you all the best."

I was still processing the words that came out of his mouth. Before I could even offer a reply, he had already vanished into the crowd. One second, I saw a white suit among a horde of shoppers. I blinked, and then it had vanished. I had to rub my eyes to make sure I wasn't seeing things.

Talk about trippy. Even as I gathered my merchandise, I could still hear the echoes of his words, of his interpretation of...me.

Those were pretty accurate, and it felt... _weird_ coming from someone I didn't know.

It was time to go home anyway. Dad didn't like me staying up too late, what with the various cape gangs squabbling over their borders. On top of that, it was a school day tomorrow, the first day back from break. If anything, I had a story to tell Dad when he asked about my day. There, see! Silver lining.

-  
 _Afternoon to Evening_  
-

For once, dinner was a talkative affair in comparison to the awkward chewing that plagued my evening meals. I think Dad enjoyed offering me every reason not to trust fortune tellers. Everything about coaxing credit card numbers out of their clientele, obtaining valuable blackmail information and buying into the whole occultist belief of "I CAN SEE THE FUTURE".

He shook his head ruefully, warning me not to have people read my fortune, no matter how nice they appeared. I assured him that I had no intention to, upon which he gave me a small smile. Dinner gave him the opportunity to behave like a father in the longest time.

I guess the foundation of the emotional bridge was being laid down, but it was still to early to say anything definitive.

By the time we cleaned up the table and moved into our evening routine, it was already pitch black save for the sprinkling of streetlights. I checked my watch, and confirmed that was still a bit early for me to go to sleep. I had plenty of time to do something...

[ ] Sleep early. (This will skip Late Evening and move immediately to Early Morning, but she will wake up feeling 'Great'.)  
[ ] Study at her desk. (This will increase the Knowledge social quality. Repeated selection increases Diligence.)  
[ ] Watch late-night TV. (This will increase the Understanding social quality. There is a small chance that Expression may increase.)


	6. 1-6: Reach Out

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.6 - Reach Out

[X] Study at her desk. (This will increase the Knowledge social quality. Repeated selection increases Diligence.)

I ended up hitting the books. If there was one thing that I had going for me at Winslow, it was the fact that I actually had a firm grasp on most of the material that we were learning. The Trio knew it too and gleefully took every opportunity to rip off my notes and homework.

I pushed those thoughts out of the way and focused on one of the readings Mr. Gladly had assigned.

 **Your Knowledge has significantly increased!**

By the time I had finished reviewing, it was already eleven. Stifling a yawn, I closed the textbooks and got ready for bed. Shower, nightwear, brushing my teeth, all the works. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I felt all of the day's exhaustion finally catch up to me.

My eyes closed, my breathing evened out, and I surrendered myself to the gentle lull of sleep.

 _ **=Night to Late Night=**_

 _I dreamt that I was a butterfly, fluttering across the empty sky of Brockton Bay._

 _Enjoying my wings to the fullest of my extent, I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I am Taylor._

 _When I awaken, I will definitely be myself._

 _I do not know whether I will have been a girl dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I will be a butterfly dreaming I am a girl._

 _But between me and the butterfly, does such a distinction even exist?_

 **Your Understanding has significantly increased!**

 _ **=Late Night to Early Morning=**_

Monday, January 3rd 2011

Time: Early Morning  
Weather: Overcast and Chilly  
Moon: Waning, 1 Day to New Moon (1/4), 16 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

-Line Break-

The industrial chirp of my alarm clock stirred me out of my dreams. I hit the button and yawned, stretching the kinks out of my body that had settled in during the night. Today was the first day of school after winter break, and the beginning of the second semester of my freshman year.

I exhaled deeply, thinking about the peaceful, stress-free days of November and Christmas break. You know that saying about calms before storms? I was definitely feeling it on some primal level, now more than ever since the fortune teller divined an encounter with disaster in my "immediate future".

I hesitantly brushed it off as mere paranoia as I headed down to breakfast, and repeated Dad's words in my head as I munched down breakfast. Fortune tellers weren't real, no matter how convincing they were or how uncanny their intuition seemed to be. And by the time I had already rationed my school supplies from yesterday's shopping trip, set my pepper spray on my bedside table, and kissed Dad goodbye, I had managed to convince myself of the fact without any guilt over it.

 _ **=Early Morning to Morning=**_

I made it to school without any problems. Last night's dusting regretfully didn't cancel today's classes, and the leftover snow from December had already been cleared away by the county's maintenance crews. I shared in the mutual frustration of high school students across America at the prospect of a potential day off that went right down the drain.

The blast of warm air that greeted me was one of the few small comforts that I took whenever I entered here, but it was only when I made it to my locker to retrieve my books did things start to go downhill.

I get that there's a certain smell that comes with owning a school locker, but I never thought that the janitors would allow one to get bad enough to reach the levels of fetid. I forced the gorge rising in the back of my throat down to my stomach and steeled myself as I advanced towards the locker.

Any normal person wouldn't have done what I did and should have called a janitor. But I wasn't exactly normal. I didn't have a choice. My textbooks were in there. Fuck. There was another hundred dollars down the toilet, and I was willing to be a hundred more that the teachers wouldn't give a shit about my financial circumstances. I sighed, knowing that my streak of peaceful days was too good to be true, and with one nose clamped shut, opened the door.

The flies that burst out of my locker caught me off-guard, and I ended up letting go of my nose in reflex to defend myself from the swarm. That was when the smell finally hit me in all of its unfiltered glory. White objects were stacked at least as high as five inches, all of them playing host to the uncountable number of writhing insects and maggots that reveled in the wastes. The floor of the locker was covered with a viscous red slime, having congealed long ago into something too broken down to even resemble anything.

It was with growing horror that I realized that the extra snow days from the storm that hit December and let us out early for winter break, school hadn't been open for a solid month. A month for these things to rot and fester.

I couldn't hold back the rising gorge in the back of my throat. I doubled over and felt the contents of my stomach exit in a violent upheaval. It wasn't pleasant by any means. It felt like my neck was on fire, writhing and constricting as acids scorched the surface of my esophagus. The only thing that was keeping me steady on my feet was a white-knuckled grip on the door of my locker.

That didn't last long. I was only dimly aware of the sound of footsteps before I felt someone grab a fistful of hair, and another hand tear mine own off the locker door. The jerking motion was hard enough to make me feel like someone was trying to tear my scalp with sheer brute force.

It had to be Sophia. She was the one that was the most violent, the most physical. Emma was all about psychological torture, which still hurt the most, and Madison was too content with stealing homework answers and dumping juice on my belongings. It couldn't have been anyone else.

All of those thoughts raced through my head in the instant that it took for her to push me into that festering nightmare, giving me a vicious shove to force me the rest of the way. My head slammed against the metal surface of the wall, causing my vision to blur and my thoughts to blank out for the barest of seconds. By the time I had recovered, I was only aware of the sound of someone slamming the door shut and snapping a lock shut on the handle.

Pain and sadness suddenly gave way to panic as I felt the bugs stir in reaction to my sudden arrival. I could feel them crawling along my skin, feel their teeth sinking into my flesh. Whatever evolutionary fear of insects laid buried deep within in my genes suddenly reared its head up with all the force it could muster. A scream I didn't even know I was capable of tore its way past bile-stained lips, a primal and desperate howl that reverberated in the darkness of the locker. I threw up again, and I was entirely sure that breakfast had long departed, and what I was retching onto the already contaminated ground was my own stomach acid.

I was thin enough to maneuver, and by the time I had managed to orient myself in a full one-eighty degree angle from where I had been shoved in, my fists pounded desperately at the door. Words had long departed, leaving me with no other means of communication save for my shrieks and desperate howls for aid. There had to be someone that heard me, seen what had happened. No one could be that oblivious, that apathetic about the fate of a suffering girl before them.

But what came in response was laughter. My tormentors weren't alone in their amusement either. There were others in the hallway, others that had seen what was in the locker, that Sophia had shoved me in, heard my screams.

 _And they were laughing._

Even when I heard the bell for first period ring, they still derived a sick pleasure as their voices faded away, footsteps diminishing by the second as they dispersed to their classes. No one had called for a teacher, called for a janitor to get me out of the darkness. All were content to enjoy the moment while it lasted before finally returning to their mundane days of student life.

Their presence faded one by one, every lingering echo taking with them what little hope I had for salvation, what odds I had for survival. I didn't think it was my possible for my voice to reach new highs of despair and distress, and even then, nothing changed.

There was nothing more beautify wrong than the sound of my screams intricately woven with the echoes of their amusement.

 _-Line Break-_

Time eventually ceased to have meaning.

I don't know how long I'd been trapped, how long I spend alternating between hurling myself against the door and hammering at it with all my strength. Screaming myself hoarse was a constant that never ceased.

Eventually, the adrenaline coursing through my blood left me, and I weakly sagged against the back of the locker, too parched to even form a proper sob as my body began to convulse. My life was flashing before my eyes, causing me to live out every painful happening that I had experienced.

Mom's death.

The rift between Dad.

Emma's betrayal.

The trio's torture.

I felt the memory of the fortune teller flash before my eyes, his ageless face warning me of a calamity. He was right. A dark place in the corner of my mind suddenly chuckled. Apparently, he was the one fortune teller that was dead-on about his divination.

Was I going to die here? Surrounded by filth and refuse?

...but I don't want to die.

Dying would have meant...

That my tormentors had won.

That I was too stupid to try harder to find help.

...that Dad would be left alone.

I felt a fire erupt inside of me. I didn't want to die. I wasn't about to let that happen to him, when he'd already lost Mom. It's not the best reason for living, but right now, in this hellhole, it's more than enough for me to keep on going. I wasn't about to let Dad experience something worse than what I'd been through. I wasn't that horrible of a daughter to inflict that on him.

I tried to drag myself up, to lift arms riddled with scratches and bug bites. I was exhausted, and my body ached everywhere, but I had to try.

Then I felt the air change, and the atmosphere thrummed with energy. And I knew that there was something else inside with me.

Even in the confined darkness, I could see it clearly. The butterfly was perched gracefully on one of the grates that let air out into the hallway, completely serene despite the filthy environment it was trapped in. Delicate wings flapped gently against putrid air.

I don't know how it got in here and how I didn't notice it before. I can't even explain why…but I could _feel_ that it was watching me.

It was a beacon of light in the darkness, a center of serenity and calm against pandemonium and chaos. Looking at it filled my body with relief, that things were going to somehow be alright in the end. My light at the end of the tunnel...

 _...the relief at the end of a calamity._

Something in the back of my mind compelled me to move, as if I could feel my unconsciousness telling me to approach. I raised a hand and reached out with trembling fingers. Blood-stained fingernails brushed against the warm chitin of its wings. There was a light pulsated upon contact, and the noise of reality distorting, shifting around me. My senses slowly started to blur together, sight becoming smell, hearing filled with nothing more than a dull humming.

Most people black out. But for me, my vision went wight. But before I The last thought to race through my mind was how beautiful the butter fly was, especially its wings...wings that were such a lovely shade of blue...

 _-Line Break-_

Reality suddenly reasserted itself and graciously allowed me to tumble out of nothingness and plant myself face-first onto cold tile.

The impact hurt a lot, but I didn't care. I was too busy taking deep breaths of clean air, and sobbing in relief that I was no longer confined, no longer trapped. I try not to cry, but honestly, to hell with that. Right now, it just felt good to cry and let it all out. All the pent-up stress, the anger, the helplessness and everything in between. It hurt so much, but it felt so good to just lay there in my own self-pity.

I stayed there for a good three minutes before I caught myself trying to wipe my eyes on my sleeve. I remembered that they were covered in my puke and an inordinate amount of bio-medical waste. As the sobs slowly started to die down, I chided myself for my stupidity. The last thing I needed was to nurse an eye infection from getting fetid bacteria cultures inside of my eye-

I froze.

They were clean.

My sleeve, my hoodie, my entire wardrobe…

They looked as if they just came out of the washing machine.

But that wasn't all I noticed.

Winslow is a public school, which meant that at any given time, there were supposed to be students roaming the hallways. Cutting class, going to class and everything in between. There was supposed to be at least one person you would see roaming the school while classes were in session, hear at least one teacher giving a lecture from his classroom.

There was nothing of the sort, only an eerie silence and the low whistle of flowing air.

I blinked, and my concept of 'here' drastically changed.

The corridor looked as if it belonged on the set of a disaster movie set. Hairline cracks ran along the tile floors, traveling up walls and splitting off along random pathways across the ceiling. Almost all of the lockers had their doors ripped off, or were on the cusp of tumbling down from their rusted hinges. Further down, some sections of the school had collapsed entirely, cordoning off the paths that lead to the main exit with stone debris. Wooden doors were little more than fragmented splinters, and anything that had a glass pane in it held nothing more than shattered glass.

My thought process started racing at a mile a minute as I tried to get my bearings and struggle not to panic. Scenarios of all sorts and variations were pushed to the front of my active mind, ranging from zombie apocalypse to Endbringer attack. I had high doubts about the former, and even if the latter was or had happened, I think I would have noticed the ungodly combination of human screams, wailing klaxon sirens and fiery explosions while I was in the locker.

I managed to stand up despite the shakiness in my limbs and shove all my wild theories to the back of my subconscious. Panicking wouldn't do me any good. I audibly swallowed and clenched my fist. I needed to…

[ ] Search for something I can defend myself with. I didn't bring my pepper spray today with me and look what happened. I'm not going anywhere without a weapon ever again, and fuck anyone who says otherwise.

[ ] Get out of the building and figure out what the hell is going on. As soon as I can establish my bearings and gain more information about current events, then I can plan accordingly.


	7. 1-7: Encroaching Darkness

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.7 - Encroaching Darkness

-  
Monday, January 3rd 2011

Time: **?**  
Weather: Overcast and Chilly  
Moon: Waning, 1 Day to New Moon (1/4), 16 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

 _-Line Break-_

[X] Search for something I can defend myself with. I didn't bring my pepper spray today with me and look what happened. I'm not going anywhere without a weapon ever again, and fuck anyone who says otherwise.

The best that I could come up with in the immediate area was a steel pipe about the length of my arm. I'd found it amid the collapsed ruins of what I remembered to be the janitor's closet. It was light enough for me to swing comfortably as a club without too much effort, but heavy enough to require both hands and a solid grip around its circumference. I tested it out against the broken lockers, and was satisfied with the loud _THONK_ that it made.

 **You have acquired** ** _Steel Pipe._**

With weapon in hand, I decided to explore a little further out of the initial area I had landed in. I tried to head out to the main exit, but was ultimately thwarted by the fact that the junction that brought three separate hallways together to the entrance was completely blocked off by rubble. No amount of shifting was going to get rocks of that size to move anytime soon without construction equipment. I was forced to backtrack and take an alternative route, all the while checking my surroundings for unstable ceilings and fragile ground. Enbringer attacks were always earth-shattering events, and finding buildings that had collapsed from weakened foundations were commonplace.

The silence was unnerving. All I could hear was the sound of my nervous breaths and the echoing footsteps left by my trek. I couldn't explain how, but I could definitely feel that there was something inherently _wrong_ about the environment. Tranquility this profound wasn't natural, in any way, shape or form. The absence of noise is normally a peaceful and soothing sensation, but all that I got was the chill feeling of trepidation, a deep anxiety that something was watching. I couldn't shake it, the constant buzzing feeling...

I grimaced and gripped the pipe tighter.

After a series of detours and u-turns, I finally reached the exit I was aiming for, a side door that lead to the dilapidated patch of dirt that somehow passed as our school's track. Oddly enough, windows had been boarded over and upon trying to force the door, I met a slight resistance. Whatever was on the other side wasn't too heavy, as I could slightly move it without too much effort.

With that said, moving it any further wasn't going to be easy. I'm not exactly what you would call "fit". I eat healthily enough, but I don't exercise and I have a slight paunch. The amount of things I could carry in both hands probably didn't exceed over at least fifteen or twenty pounds.

However, I was able to force the door open wide enough to slide the pipe into the opening it provided. I'd seen enough movies to get the gist of how the principle of a crowbar works, and the pipe was thick enough to remain rigid and unaltered despite repeated abuse (within human limits). I like to say that my intellect makes up for my lack of strength. Using a fulcrum would allow me to double what paltry amount of force I was able to generate. Hopefully it should be enough to pry the door open.

I took a deep breath, grabbed the pipe, and pushed as hard as I could. The door opened further, revealing a familiar graffiti-stained brick wall, but closed as my strength ran out. Gasping for breath, I evaluated my actions. I had managed at least a good three inches with what I believed to be my all.

I positioned myself against a nearby wall, setting one leg against it. With a final grunt, I pushed into the pipe as hard as I could, using the wall as a counter-force to amplify my output. The door opened wider, and wider, until I heard something snap, and the resistance finally gave way. The door violently burst outward, and I fell, surprised and yelping as I fell outside of the building-

To stumble upon a ruin.

Miles and miles of desolation stretched out as far as the eye could see, a never-ending wasteland that continued far into the horizon. The skeletons of the highest skyscrapers were the only things that had survived the calamity, and even they bore the scars of terrible calamities and tribulations. There was nothing that could grow here, not even in the craters that carved out deep trenches in the earth. Nothing had remained intact or whole, survived unscathed.

But worst of all? I was the only one to bear witness to it. There were no signs of life to show that other people were here. Not even the dead bodies to accompany a disaster could be seen. I thought had I known what it meant to be alone. But now...this was true isolation, true solitude in a land where I did not belong.

I was only dimly aware of the pipe slipping from my numb fingers as I stared up into a crimson twilight, with broiling clouds that rumbled and murmured with barely-restrained ferocity. What hell? I heard a splash, and felt something splatter my jeans.

I looked down to find the pipe laying in the epicenter of a pool of crimson liquid.

The sharp scent of iron came thick and pungent from the blood.

Before I could even scream, everything that had felt wrong about my surroundings finally decided to happen.

 _"…_ _ugliest girl in the school."_

 _"…_ _if she isn't going to even try in class, then why does she bother showing up?"_

 _"…_ _oh my god, is she seriously crying?"_

 _"...wow, what a loser!"  
_  
Their voices came from everywhere and nowhere, scathing whispers and mocking falsettos that left me able to identify the speakers. Madison, Sophia, Emma, all the other students at Winslow, and a teacher that berated me for not being able to replace vandalized materials. I felt every one of them dig into me, assaulting me, hurting me. Every insult, every malignant word I'd ever heard came at me simultaneously.

My hands started shaking, and I think my body followed suit. I already thought I was done crying back in the locker, so this sudden wave of torment hit me when I was least expecting it, leaving me without any tears to shed. But what the hell...what the hell...what hell was happening? This...this was too fucked up. Was I hallucinating? I felt my horror grow as I slowly processed it. I could very well still be in the locker, passed out among that filth and refuse. I reflexively gagged, and found nothing to heave.

 **"** **Aw...look at you...we've suffered through so much at the hands of those sadistic bitches...and continue to do so because you're too fucking weak to grow a spine!"**

What separated the distorted voice from the whispers was the fact that it wasn't an unknown whisper. It actually came from someone that was in the general area, and had a definitive substance that the others lacked. It actually made me shriek. I grabbed the pipe, doing my best to ignore the blood that dripped around its circumference, and brought it around to bear at the source of the voice.

It was like looking into a mirror. She wore the same juice-stained hoodie, had the familiar curly hair that tumbled en mass down to my shoulders, sitting on a ruined bench with gangling limbs spread out without a care in the world. Familiar traits stared back at me, the wide mouth curled into a smile that was beautiful in all the wrong places. All and all, the girl standing in front of me could have passed as my twin, save for one critical feature that stood out among the others.

Sickly red eyes that matched the shade of the blood at my feet.

[ ] "W-who are you?"

[ ] "...where am I?"

[ ] "W..what do you mean by that?!"


	8. 1-8: Shadow of the True Self

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.8 - Shadow of the True Self

-  
Monday, January 3rd 2011

Time: **?**  
Weather: Overcast and Chilly  
Moon: Waning, 1 Day to New Moon (1/4), 16 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

 _-Line Break-_

I was too shocked to even come up with a coherent response. All I could do was stare in mute horror at the lookalike as she threw her head back and laughed uproariously. It wasn't a pretty sound. **"You should see the look on your face,"** she grinned maliciously, **"If that's the reaction you've been giving in response to the bullying, then it's no small wonder why it hasn't stopped. That dumbstruck, helpless expression like you're about to cry...it's fucking hilarious!"  
**  
Suddenly, all thoughts about where I was didn't matter, became irrelevant. Her words hit me harder than any physical blow could have ever done. I actually staggered back. There were so many things I wanted to say in response. Counters, denials, retorts. But they all died before I could even form the words. "Wh...wha-?" My voice noticeably cracked.

 **"Oh, I'm so sorry,"** her voice dripped with disingenuous sympathy as she pushed herself off of the bench, slowly making her way to me. **"I forgot to introduce myself. Simply put, I am you. That means I know everything about you, and all the nasty little secrets that you've tried to hide. Which aren't that many since Emma squeals louder than the cape that's shacked up with Skidmark,"** she scowled briefly before her wicked smile returned, **"But their quality most definitely outweighs their paltry quantity by a long shot. So let's talk about what we never told that stuck-up bitch...like the fact that you hate your Dad with every fiber in your body."  
**  
That managed to get a comprehensible response out of me. "N-no! That's crazy! I don't hate-!"

 **"Daddy dearest always had temper issues,"** she interrupted, dramatically sighing and shaking her head. **"And those never fail to be detrimental to one's heart, blood pressure and relationships with family. He tries so hard to keep it in check, but he really messed up when he decided to let loose on the day mommy checked into the funeral parlor. Right now, the both of you might be trying to repair your bond, but the reality is, you haven't quite forgiven him for yelling at Mommy's** ** _._** **Cold** ** _._** **Dead** ** _._** **Body. Right in front of your eyes."**

The memory flashed before my eyes as she punctuated words with a deliberate, sneering emphasis. It was just as sharp and crisp as if it happened only the day before. The phone call...the hospital...the shouting...

I felt my legs give way and I hit the ground shaking. I felt sick. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to cry. But I didn't have anything left in my body. "Sh-shut up! That's not tr-tr..." I trailed off, my horror growing as I was unable to form the words. I didn't hate Dad, I swear it! I don't!

The smirk on her lips deepened before she continued, **"You didn't eat for five days after that, and it was only through your old friend Emma that you've managed to remain with your father in some pitiful semblance of family. They called it shock, a psychological response to severe emotional trauma. But you know what I call that? Attempted suicide."**

My heart almost stopped.

Her eyes glowed, seemingly elated that she struck a nerve I didn't even know existed. **"It's what you've been too scared of to admit to yourself ever you've graduated from crying yourself to sleep,"** she delivered. **"That at one point in your life, you were so miserable that deep, deep down, you craved for an ending to your pain, and what better, more absolute ending exists than death itself? And so you locked it away and tried your best to forget it...until freshman year started and the Trio let all of it back into your life."**

"S-stop it!" I cried. Before I even realized it, I'd put my hands over my ears in a reflexive attempt to block out her words. "Just stop it, please!"

She chuckled darkly. **"Why are you panicking? I thought that all I was spouting was lies and bullshit?**

"And that fortune teller you met yesterday...he was right, you know. You think you're some kind of fucking martyr? Some kind of 'hero' for not lashing out in retribution?"

she spat out the word in distaste. **"What a fucking joke. Believe what you think you wish to be, but to everyone else, you're just a spineless pushover. Look at what's been going on, hell, look at what happened today! Stuffed in a locker full of rotting tampons and God knows what else. That's not what happens to heroes.**

 **"The only thing that you are is a coward,"** she concluded with the finality of a judge reading out a death sentence. **"A spineless, self-loathing coward who's too weak and afraid to change her current situation."  
**  
I was an emotional mess. I was hyperventilating, shaking uncontrollably, and sick to my stomach. But no matter how much I wanted to deny it, the words she spoke continued to play themselves over and over again inside of my head.

When I saw Dad shouting at Mom, I wasn't sure what I felt at the time, but it definitely hadn't been love. But I'd never go as far as to hate him. I didn't eat for five days because I was still reeling from mom's death, not because of a death wish. And...and...

I thought that I had been upset with what the fortune teller had told me. But this was a whole new level of coming to terms with myself. The girl who claimed to be Taylor Hebert made me want to scream. Her scathing tone made me want to cry. I wanted nothing more than to hit her for telling me all those horrible, twisted things about me. There was no way I could be that kind of person. I was...I was...

 **"** **Taylor, Taylor, Taylor…"** She had come close enough to touch me, and I didn't even realize it. She was too close, actually in my face with her accusations and words. **"Your intelligence is supposed to be your one redeeming quality. Don't you get it? What are you trying to prove by bottling up all this shit and leaving it to fester?"**

I flinched as I felt her hands cup my face. There was no warmth in her grasp; no sign of life save for a chill feeling that spread from the point of contact. **"** **You can stop restraining yourself!"** She reassured me with a smile too wide to be considered benign. **"** **I know how it feels to be downtrodden, how it hurts to restrain everything, I promise! I'm the only one that understands, who cares. Because after all,** ** _I am you_** **."**

I violently jerked my head out of her hold and scrambled back as far and fast as I could.

"No..." I whispered, clenching my head and curling in on myself. I could feel my emotions spiraling out of control, panic and desperation lending volume to my voice. I didn't care if its status as the truth had its own twisted logic. For my own sake, I had to say it. I _needed_ to say it. "You're not..."

 **"Mmm?"** She cocked her head to the side and flashed me that mocking smile. **"I'm not what, Taylor? Tell me what I am."**

"YOU'RE NOT ME!" I eventually screamed, hysteria amplifying the output of my words a hundredfold in their delivery. "YOU'RE NOTHING LIKE ME AT ALL!"

There was a terrible silence as the last echoes of my words faded away. The only things I was aware of consisted of the ragged, near-hyperventilating, breaths that came out of my mouth, and the eerie smile that grew bigger on the other me's face. An ominous air settled around us, and I felt like I had done something that I shouldn't have done.

But before I could do anything, she started laughing maniacally. **"Damn right I'm not!"** she howled, her tone bordering elation as darkness erupted around her. The sudden wave of power threw me off of my feet, sending me tumbling along the ground. The rising shadows eventually masked her from visibility, but did little to hinder her ability to shriek. **"I'm my own person now! And there's nothing you can do to stop me!"  
**  
The vortex of darkness suddenly dispelled, revealing a monster in the place of my doppelganger. Eight hairy, segmented legs clacked against the ground in a dissonant beat, supporting a gigantic body too bloated and distended to resemble anything close to humanity. Four pairs of red eyes stared at me, ravening, beady things that held my terrified reflection within them, as a mouth filled with serrated teeth stretched in a grotesque mockery of a smile. But the most horrific thing about it was the face it wore to do so. _My face._

 **"** **I aM a sHAdoW,"** the spider-thing rumbled, **"** **Of yOUr tRuE INneR sELf! I'lL cRuSH aNYoNE tHAt TrIEs tO cRuSH mE…sTaRTiNg wITh YoU!"**

The legs twitched, and I didn't have enough time to blink before it propelled itself towards me with inhuman speed, shrieking as two serrated claws raced towards my neck. My instincts screamed at me to dodge, flight-or-fight kicking into overdrive. Snapping out of my stupor, I threw myself to the ground as hard as I could, and I could feel the air above my head part as its lunge missed me by mere centimeters.

It crashed into the brick wall, causing the structure to collapse on top of it. For a fleeting second, I dared to hope that the impact had killed it. But that was dashed to pieces when I heard it still screeching and chittering. Even as dust and debris floated up into the air, I could make out the tangled outline of its body violently thrashing in an effort to right itself. It was pinned, trapped under the bricks, and from the amount of rubble keeping it inert, it wouldn't be getting up for a while.

[ ] Hit it while its down. It isn't me, **it isn't me** , **_it isn't me_** , _**it isn't me!**_

[ ] Run and find somewhere to hide. There's no way I can fight that thing!


	9. 1-9: No Escape

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.7 - Encroaching Darkness

-  
Monday, January 3rd 2011

Time: **?**  
Weather: Overcast and Chilly  
Moon: Waning, 1 Day to New Moon (1/4), 16 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

[X] Run and find somewhere to hide. There's no way I can fight that thing!  
-[X] It isn't me, **it isn't me** , ** _that thing is not me!_**  
-[X] ... What am I going to do if it is me?

 _-Line Break-_

Staggering to my feet, I ran as fast as I could without even looking back. Even over the shrieking and thrashing, I could hear my heartbeat, a staccato drum in my chest threatening to burst at any moment. My lungs were burning and my heart was on fire, but I didn't care. The only thing on my mind was escaping. I had to get away, run as far as humanly possible from that…that _thing_ that claimed to be me.

The lead pipe I was carrying suddenly lost the comforting presence it had previously been providing. When I carried it out of the janitor's closet, I had been expecting to fight off human attackers if the opportunity had arisen. Granted, I never was inclined to any sort of athleticism, but I'd read enough about fighting to theoretically apply it in a combat situation. Hah. Not anymore…

I ended up running back through the doors where I came out of, maneuvering as fast as I could to avoid tripping over rubble. Going into the city was not an option. Even if it was Brockton Bay, there were more advantages that the spider had than I did if I chose to flee into the ruins. If the speed at which it flung itself at me was any indication, then running down the open roads was almost just as bad as not moving at all.

The irony to rely on Winslow of all places as a sanctuary was not lost to me. Even when it wasn't looking like the dilapidated ruin that it was now, I still couldn't shake the feeling of dark humor that had overcome me. It had never done anything for me. The teachers were either too oblivious or heartless enough to turn a blind eye to my suffering. Now that they were gone and the school was in a dilapidated state, it still offered more to me than anyone ever had.

There were plenty of places to hide in the school, if one knew where to look. I happened to know a majority of them, no thanks to the Trio. My mind was processing and discarding hiding spots with a speed fueled by fear. I had to think small, where the spider couldn't reach me, but there was no way in hell that I was about to hide inside of a locker. Fuck that. Never again. Maybe classrooms-

 **"** **yOu CaN't rUn FrOm mE, tAYloR!"**

There was a tremendous impact at the entrance. The building shuddered in response and dislodged more pieces of the ceiling. I felt small pieces of debris rain down on me, showering my body with broken pieces of cinderblock. The smallest fragments only dusted my clothing, but the heaviest piece -a chunk the size of a volleyball- struck my left shoulder.

The amount of force behind its descent was strong enough to make me fall. I screamed, tumbling down onto the floor and writhing in pain, as I felt something being wrenched out of place. My arm was dead weight. I couldn't move anything save for my fingers. _Dislocated shoulder_ , my mind provided for me. The term suddenly took on a whole new weight now that I knew what it feels like to have a shoulder pulled out of joint.

I tried to get up, only for a jolt of pain to send me back down onto the floor. It probably saved my life. A viscous globule flew over my head and hit the wall I was facing, splattering across the hall upon impact. Only one drop of it hit my cheek, but it was enough to cause my head to start spinning. Suddenly, I was too nauseas to stand up on my own, sick enough to retch had I anything left in my stomach. I belatedly realized that it must have been venomous. That was the only conclusion that made sense given the effects of it on my body.

My good hand blindly groped for something to grab onto to help me up. I eventually managed to grab hold of a handrail that miraculously survived whatever disaster struck the school. Hauling my body up with only one hand was a trial in itself. I mentally cursed my lack of fitness, praying and swearing to everything and nothing to get in shape if I could make it out of this situation with my life and body intact. I could hear my knuckles creaking in protest as their grip around the rail intensified, but desperation enabled me to move past the pain.

There was a noise behind me that caused me to turn around instinctively. The spider had rammed into the building, trying to push its way through and give a direct chase. But it was too big to fit through the exit I had forced open. Its head barely made it past the door. All I could make out was the grotesque parody of my face snarling and snapping at the air, straining to get past the tiny entrance. Strings of fluids leaked from the quivering mouth, similar in color and consistency to the splatter on the walls.

The spider suddenly reared its head and made a strangled noise. I recognized it easily enough. It was nearly impossible to go an entire day at school without hearing someone spitting. I pushed down the nausea and the throbbing pain in my shoulder and bit the hem of my hoodie as I forced my body to reach the intersection.

My effort to escape the range of the attack retained only enough dignity to be defined as panicked limping. For a few short seconds, the outcome of my efforts was uncertain, but I persevered. As it was, I barely made it around the corner when its attack came again.

I ignored the long-term health effects, grit my teeth as hard as I could, and threw my body as far away as I could from the radius of the splatter. Even though I held my left arm as close to my body as I could, the pain was excruciating. It felt like a white-hot iron rod was being driven into my upper body.

Even though I couldn't see the monster, I could still feel the anger and hatred in the tremendous roar that it loosed. The ceiling shuddered from the noise, and I feared that more of the structure would give way. But they went ultimately unfounded. Aside from the stirring of more dust, the ceiling stayed as intact as it could have been.

 **"** **rUn aWAy fROm mE, taYLoR!"** It screeched. The noise travelled down the hallway, distorted as it echoed across the school and bounced off the walls. It was keening, and it hurt to listen to. **"** **flEEiNg lIKe tHe cOwARd yOU ARe oNly dELayS tHE iNevItaBlE. tHErE's nOWheRe In tHIs plACe wHeRE I wON't bE aBLe tO fINd yOu. I'Ll VaLIdATe mY exISTeNcE bY tEAriNg yOu lIMb FrOm liMB! i'M cOmInG fOR yOu, liTtLe FlY..."**

There was the sound of rubble shifting, and then the sound of skittering legs. The noises faded, diminishing second by agonizing second before they eventually ceased.

For a second, all I could do was stare blankly at the venom dripping from the wall.

And then my legs gave way beneath me.

I collapsed against the remains of a row of lockers, shaking uncontrollably as I struggled to pull myself back together. My chest was rising uncontrollably and my breath came out in short, pinched gasps. I was hyperventilating.

One would think that breathing faster was a good thing, what with the increased oxygen intake and all. In a pinch or in times of extraneous circumstance, sure it was. But never for prolonged periods of time. Hyperventilation was bad because the human body requires a minimum level of carbon dioxide to function properly, and breathing it all out causes light-headedness. There were other more specific effects that it had, particularly in the bloodstream, but for the moment, avoiding passing out was the top priority.

I inhaled as deep as I could, counting up to seven as slow as I could. There were times when I couldn't control exhaling, involuntarily slipping back before I forced myself to start again. I slipped more than once, coming close to screaming out of frustration before remembering the fact that I was being hunted. That sobered me enough to reach the number. I followed through and exhaled as slowly as I could, counting down from twelve and repeating the process.

It took a while, but I eventually regained control of my breathing. Then came the hard part.

I ultimately took refuge inside of the janitor's closet. I used the steel pipe as a cane to limp there as fast as my body could let me. It could have passed as snug at one point. The closet was about five by ten feet, and the ceiling was a good ten feet above my head. I situated myself as far into the room as I could, knocking away dilapidated cleaning supplies and miscellaneous items that still lingered. I barred the door with the broken shaft of a mop handle before collapsing against an impromptu mattress made out of tarpaulin.

I curled in on myself as best as I could, doing my best not to agitate my arm any further than I already had. My hoodie ended up serving as a makeshift splint. It took a combination of trembling fingers, my teeth, and no small amount of patience to get my left arm properly secured in as stable of a condition as it could have been with the provided materials. And I'd barely finished securing it when the pain kicked in.

I must have been running high on adrenaline earlier, to be able to ignore the pain and move on as best as I could. Now that the endorphins were wearing off and fight-or-flight had disengaged, all of my body's prior pains and exhaustions came to hit me at once. The combination of my traumas from the locker combined with the dull, throbbing pain inflicted by the spider almost made me pass out.

An epiphany suddenly hit me. Perhaps I was dreaming? It was a definite possibility, something that I had barely had time to mull upon earlier before that…that thing revealed its presence to me. I could have hit my head in the locker and passed out. Had I not been too weak to do so, I would have shuddered at the thought of my unconscious body festering inside all of the filth.

I recalled a heuristic to test whether or not I was actually experiencing a dream-state. The foundations of dreams were comprised of the least logical aspects of the brain. Sleep was where imagination and the power of the subconscious' unrestricted creativity reigned supreme. Coherent thought and linear thinking seldom had any presence.

This situation definitely qualified for being out of the ordinary. Despite the world of parahumans and Endbringers that I lived in, I hoped that being hunted by an anthropomorphic spider-thing counted fantastic enough to be considered dream material.

But I felt pain. There was the physical ache of being tossed around like rag doll, the throbbing ache of my shoulder. I should have woken up, presumably, inside of a locker filled with bugs and rotting hygiene products. Yet that hadn't been the case, and all the books said that pain was a good kick out of a dream. Maybe it had to be self inflicted?

Additionally, affirmation that I was dreaming was an equally strong method of escaping. I had to convince myself that I was asleep, that I needed to wake up. I had to believe.

"Wake up," I muttered, using my good hand to pinch the side of my face. When the surroundings around me didn't change, I grew more panicked. The pinch grew harder as the desperation in my tone increased. I closed my eyes. My words became a mantra, a prayer without a god to hear them. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

I opened my eyes to the same sight of decrepit lockers and the sight of blood on my nails. I raised shaking fingers to the cheek I had pinched. They came away stained with a crimson liquid. My blood, I belatedly realized.

The noise that came out of my throat was too strangled to be a laugh, but too hysteric to be a sob.

This…this wasn't a dream.

Despair filled me as I slumped against the wall. I didn't know how or why, but I really was stuck in a post-apocalyptic Brockton Bay. I was really being chased by a monster that claimed to be me.

Maybe I should just give up. It would be so much easier-

 _No._

It took several deep, rasping breaths to clear my head and dispel some of the mental fatigue. I couldn't lose my head. Not now, not again. There had to have been a way out of this. I just hadn't found it yet.

The spider was the immediate problem, the one that wore my face like a demented mask and claimed to be me. I let everything my…doppelganger said cycle through my mind, ignoring the pain that accompanied her words. I apparently hated my Dad. At one point in my life, I was considering suicide as a viable means of escaping pain. I was too much of a pushover to change my life. All were jarring, disturbing and sobering to even think about. But I forced myself and dug as deep as I could inside of my head. I needed to address them all, but some were probably more pressing than others. The order, from least to most pressing, I needed to evaluate my problems was…

[ ] I hate my Dad.  
[ ] I'm suicidal.  
[ ] I'm a coward.


	10. 1-10: First Introspection

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.10 - First Introspection

-  
Monday, January 3rd 2011

Time: **?**  
Weather: Overcast and Chilly  
Moon: Waning, 1 Day to New Moon (1/4), 16 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

[1] I hate my Dad. (Most Pressing)  
[2] I'm suicidal. (Pressing)  
[3] I'm a coward. (Least Pressing)

 _-Line Break-_

 ** _"Daddy dearest always had temper issues. And those never fail to be detrimental to one's heart, blood pressure and relationships with family. He tries so hard to keep it in check, but he really messed up when he decided to let loose on the day mommy checked into the funeral parlor. Right now, the both of you might be trying to repair your bond, but the reality is, you haven't quite forgiven him for yelling at Mommy's cold. Dead. Body. Right in front of your eyes."_**

The most important thing that had to be resolved first was that I…I hated Dad.

I took a deep breath and mentally went over it again in my head. I, Taylor Hebert, hated my Dad. Wow. It was definitely an odd statement to process. Going over the words brought out an odd mixture of feelings from my heart. To be honest, it felt… _cathartic_ to vocalize, but it also elicited no small amount of guilt at myself for actually confirming the horrible truth.

I can barely form a coherent recollection of that day without my emotions sinking like a rock. Even to this day, I still don't know what they were arguing about. All I heard were raised voices before the sound of the slamming door filled the house. Then Emma's house, where I received the phone call that would change the course of my life forever. Memories of the funeral, seeing Dad berate Mom's body, and the inevitable fallout that nearly destroyed our already broken family.

I had always been closer to Mom than I was with him. That was why it hurt so much when she died, even more so when Dad began shouting at the funeral parlor. A though occurred. Had my love for Mom lead to a proxy hatred for Dad? It…it seemed to be the most logical conclusion.

 _But was it reasonable at all?_

It's common for kids to declare their hatred for parents in the middle of a heated argument. Sometimes, it's over something unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Other times, the fault is legitimate, and could have been the burden on either party's shoulder. Give both of them enough time, and their heads should eventually cool off. They put it past them, try not to bring it up in the future, and life resumes as it is.

But my situation was different. I had not lashed out against Dad, nor had he done so to me. The rift between us came only about when he was arguing with someone else: my mother. There was no…conscious animosity between us prior to the day I saw him lose his temper with mom. That was when it all went to hell...

My thoughts were going in circles. This wasn't going anywhere. I put my hands in my face and resisted the urge to scream. Hate and love: one for my mother, one for my father.

Hate and love. I'd heard of the thin line between the two. So thin and fragile, easy to cross and hard to come back once forgone.

A thought suddenly occurred: did they have to be exclusive? Could they not exist together?

I hadn't thought about it, actually. At least, not in this context. But now that I had, I had new ground to work with, a stable footing to move on. I didn't have any siblings, but I'd seen enough in television and in real life to discover that mutual dislike and love could co-exist with each other. In fact, it wasn't even limited to siblings. It worked almost with any kind of relationship, whether or not bound by blood.

Just because hatred suddenly came into the equation didn't mean that love was replaced and long gone.

So I forced my thoughts to straighten together, took a deep breath and asked myself if I still loved my father.

The answer was instantaneous, and came to me without any sort of hesitation. Yes.

 _Yes,_ my mind affirmed, stronger and bolder with every growing second. _Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!_

We were distant and I may apparently hate him, but at the end of the day, he was still my Dad. He wasn't supposed to be perfect; the only thing he was supposed to do was try his best with the given circumstances. _Especially_ with the given circumstances. He was only human, and humans aren't safe from slipping up every once in a while. As broken of a family as we were, there was nothing that could ever change that.

I took a shuddering breath and wiped my eyes on a clean section of my hoodie-

 ** _"You didn't eat for five days after that, and it was only through your old friend Emma that you've managed to remain with your father in some pitiful semblance of family. They called it shock, a psychological response to severe emotional trauma. But you know what I call that? Attempted suicide."_**

I felt my grip around the steep pipe tighten to the point my knuckles started to turn white. That's right. There were other things that it had mentioned, things that it had hurt me with.

Suddenly, there was a series of noises, chittering and clattering, skittering and screeching. Even with the heavy wooden door barring the entrance to the small closet, the sounds were still easily audible. It didn't take conscious effort to figure out that the spider was causing them. And that while it was still a long way from my location, it was slowly, but surely, coming closer.

I need to…

[ ] Exit the room and find another hiding place. I have to keep moving; staying in one place is going to be the death of me.

[ ] Continue reflecting on what the monster said: "I'm suicidal". I can't let it linger any longer than it needs to be.


	11. 1-11: Second Introspection

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.11 - Second Introspection

-  
Monday, January 3rd 2011

Time: **?**  
Weather: Overcast and Chilly  
Moon: Waning, 1 Day to New Moon (1/4), 16 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

[X] Continue reflecting on what the monster said: "I'm suicidal". I can't let it linger any longer than it needs to be.

 ** _"_** ** _It's what you've been too scared of to admit to yourself ever since you've graduated from crying yourself to sleep. That at one point in your life, you were so miserable that deep, deep down, you craved for an ending to your pain, and what better, more absolute ending exists than death itself? And so you locked it away and tried you best to forget it…until freshman year started and the Trio let it all of it back into your life."_**

The next issue I had to face was that I…I was suicidal.

My breath came out in ragged gasps as I tried to wrap my head around the concept. It was mind-numbing to think that I had sunken that low. My first response to this had been to deny it, and even a small part of me stubbornly clings onto the fact that I was anything but-

 _A knife in the kitchen, the bottle of bleach above the washing machine, headache medication in the bathroom cabinet..._

I didn't have anything left in me, but I still couldn't suppress the violent contortions my stomach made in response to the myriad ways of killing myself. I tried to stay as quiet as I could, but it was impossible to completely suppress the noise that came out of my mouth as I dry-heaved. By the time I was finished, I was even more of a mess than before. I couldn't stop shaking.

My mind froze. The lingering glances I left all of those objects, the nights where my thoughts ran as dark as the outside. Those were just the _options_ in my own house, and I was sure that there were more. There were near limitless ways beyond the walls of my home.

Physical pain was something easy for most people. For the most part, all one needed was disinfectant and a bandage to set themselves right. The scars they left seldom affected anyone to a severe enough degree for mental trauma, and more often than not faded away completely after a long time. But emotional pain was the knife that pierced deepest, and left the lasting scars. Mom's death and the ensuing fallout between me and Dad were bad enough on their own. Emma's betrayal and the sixteen months of bullying served to twist the knife even further.

I was the textbook example of a "driven to suicide" just waiting to happen, and it didn't help that encouragements of killing myself came from the Trio and their friends on a near daily basis-

 _"_ _You don't belong here, Taylor."_

Their voices came unbidden to my mind.

 _"_ _If you're not even going to bother trying, then what's the point of even coming?"_

I could see their faces, their sneers and their laughter.

 _"_ _You're just a waste of air."_

It was a chorus of derision, of mockery and pain.

 _"_ _Nobody wants you."  
_  
They were unrelenting, uncaring and oblivious to the pain their words caused.

 _"_ _You'd be better off dead and in the ground with your mom-"_

My fist slammed itself into the floor, hard enough to break skin and draw blood on my knuckles. I didn't care if I broke my fingers. I welcomed the pain. The impact snapped me out of the reverie.

Even as I struggled to get my breathing even, all I could do was stare numbly at the door, and the monster that was somewhere out there, roaming the halls for me. If I really wanted to die, it was't too much effort to just open the door and embrace my imminent death with open arms. It was simple. Definitely painful and messy, most likely, but that would be the end of everything. Accepting my death and giving up on life. It would have meant the end of a life filled with nothing but pain.

But...but as much as I wanted to...I didn't want to die.

I felt even worse. It was hypocritical of me to desire death but to cling to life simultaneously. I was caught in a paradox, a state of limbo that trapped me between to ends. In front of me, death's cold finality awaited. It would come eventually to claim me, but I had the power to hasten my arrival. Behind me lay a painful life that showed no sign of easing up. My emotions were wild, and logic barely got a say in whatever decision I had to make. More than anything else, I wanted my suffering to end.

But...accepting my death meant giving up.

And giving up meant that _they_ were right about me all along.

My eyes narrowed and my fist clenched. No way in hell. No _fucking_ way in hell.

My life was full of taking all of the shit they threw at me, but there was absolutely no fucking way that I was going to prove them right about killing myself.

I, Taylor Hebert, did belong in the world. I was trying and giving it my all. I'm not a waste of air. And I am wanted, even though there was one person in my life that still cared.

And...Mom wouldn't have wanted me dead with her. Not ever. I can't even begin to imagine the disappointment she would have.

 **"wHeRE aRE YoU, tAyLOr?!"  
**  
The roar was powerful enough to cause the building to shake. The ground rumbled and the walls vibrated as the words coursed along their surfaces. Dust sprinkled me as it fell from the ceiling, and I curled in on myself, shielding my head if the stone above my head give way.

 **"YoU cAN't HiDe fRoM mEEEEEEEEEEEE!"**

It was near, closer than last time I had heard it. Even as the words faded into the air, its movements were even clearer than before. The chittering it made, and the clatter of its legs against the ruined tile; all of them were easily audible through the door. The longer I stayed, the more my chances decreased of escaping unnoticed, and the odds of the monster catching me increased in relation.

But...

 _ **"And that fortune teller you met yesterday...he was right, you know. You think you're some kind of fucking martyr? Some kind of 'hero' for not lashing out in retribution?"**_ _she spat out the word in distaste._ _ **"What a fucking joke. Believe what you think you wish to be, but to everyone else, you're just a spineless pushover. Look at what's been going on, hell, look at what happened today! Stuffed in a locker full of rotting tampons and God knows what else. That's not what happens to heroes."**_

There was one last thing...one final blade in my heart that needed to be addressed.

I need to…

[ ] Get out and find another hiding spot. If I stay stationary any longer, it's going to find me.

[ ] Continue with what the other me said. I need to finish this.


	12. 1-12: Third Introspection

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.12 - Third Introspection

-  
Monday, January 3rd 2011

Time: **?**  
Weather: Overcast and Chilly  
Moon: Waning, 1 Day to New Moon (1/4), 16 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

 _-Line Break-_

[X] Continue with what it said. I need to finish this.

 ** _"_** ** _The only thing that you are is a coward. A spineless, self-loathing coward who's too weak and afraid to change her current situation."_**

Of all the things that I had to come to terms with, this was the one that I couldn't bring myself to even remotely deny. It could have been due to the shock of it all, the lack of coherent thought caused by the appearance of a doppelganger. But even if I had a stronger constitution, I don't think I could have shrugged off the accusation even with a panicked rebuttal.

Disregarding mom's death and my apparent suicidal tendencies, I knew for a fact that I was a pushover in every sense of the word. As for being a coward…no, I couldn't be. I wasn't afraid to try and change. I yearned for it. I was desperate for it. I was…contemplating death as an escape at one point. But for my efforts, nothing came out of struggling. Appealing to a higher authority never solved anything. The few teachers that did care were unable to do anything without concrete evidence, something that my bullies were able to get away with. The rest were content to pretend to hear me and turn a blind eye whenever it happened.

Not giving a shit about my situation hurt, but their apathy only went so far. The students were little better, and even far worse. The cliques of girls, the jocks, and every possible group of kids joined in on the Trio, to the point where students openly affiliated with the ABB, Empire and Merchants took their shots at making my life miserable.

Shoving me down flights of stairs and knocking textbooks out of my hands. Vandalizing my art projects and taking credit for my work. Nasty emails and snide remarks in the hallway. Those were just the tip of the iceberg. Those were tame compared…compared to mom's flute…and the locker, where my screams for aid were met by derisive laughter.

My anger was not in a state of non-existence. It was there. I did get more than just my looks from Dad. While it was nowhere near as explosive as his could possibly become, I was still capable of a fiery temper. But lashing back only provoked worse responses. Sophia got more physical in her actions, leaving tender flesh and bruised skin in her wake. Madison became more juvenile in her pranks. Emma used words that left me hurting long into the dark hours of the night, secrets I once trusted her with now out in the air for all the school to hear.

I had every excuse, every reason to retaliate, every reason to pull a Carrie. But I didn't. I couldn't. Even if there wasn't any retaliation on my part, I didn't want to stoop to their level. I was above them, morally superior to their efforts to tear me down. As miserable as I was, I still had the high ground...

 _ **"And that fortune teller you met yesterday...he was right, you know. You think you're some kind of fucking martyr? Some kind of 'hero' for not lashing out in retribution? What a fucking joke."**_

...or so I thought.

It was a subjective situation. Was I suffering in silence and being the better person? Or was I just a pushover and too stupid to realize it? It could have been one. It could be the other. Or it could have been both, from my side and theirs.

For a moment, I forgot about the ruined city and the monster, the dislocated shoulder and the blue butterfly in the locker. When I thought I had no more tears left to shed, I felt them running down my face, and I shook silently as they continued to flow.

The only thing to go through my mind was a single question I had not asked myself in a very long time.

 _Why was this happening to me?_

"It's not my fault," I whispered. "It's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's not my fault, it'snotmyfaultit'snotmyfaultit'snotmyfault..."

The mantra repeated itself, coming both from my mouth and my thought processes. It wasn't my fault. I didn't do anything wrong. I was just myself. I had not changed.

What had happened? Why did Emma turn her back on me without any warning or word to hint at her actions? Bullying isn't uncommon, but for my best friend to suddenly betray me could not have happened without a sufficient, if not warped, reason. If I knew...understanding would make it easier. Suffering is a constant for every life on the planet, but to suffer without any reason...I didn't want that. I didn't like the unknown. I just wanted the answer, even if it didn't make things better. Knowing why would have set my mind at ease, even if the struggle continued.

...struggle. That's what I was doing. To live is to struggle against a cruel and uncaring world.

But to struggle was to be human. It was a sign that I had refused to give in, that I still clung to a better future and a better life. Trapped though I was, both in Winslow and wherever this place was, I had not given up.

I was still trying to get help. I was still trying to survive.

I've already faced two truths about myself. I already did my best to keep myself from harm's way.

Was I a coward? Subjectively...maybe. But everything else she said was not true. I was not afraid to change the situation. I was not weak.

I was...I was still the better person.

But to know all of those things about me...was that person, no, the Shadow...really-  
 **  
"tHeRE yOU ArE, LiTtLe fLy!"**

That was the only warning I had before a tremendous impact split the door in half, three inches of thickened wood cracking down the center of the entrance. I felt my breath quicken once again, and a primal fear and panic rise in my heart as two jointed legs emerged from the small opening it had created and began prying the broken door apart. With a sharp _crack_ of splintering wood, the ruined wood flew backwards, and the monster that had called itself my Shadow became fully visible. Its mouth parted to reveal a smile filled with serrated teeth and an endless slathering of venomous saliva.

 **"nO mOrE rUNniNG NOw, tAYlOr..."**

[ ] "...I know who you are." [Steady breathing and slowly stand up]

[ ] "...I'm tired of running." [Ready steel pipe in good hand]

[ ] Write-in.


	13. 1-13: Umbra Ex Machina

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

A/N: Terrible shame that doesn't let me use invisitext.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.13 - Umbra Ex Machina

-  
Monday, January 3rd 2011

Time: **?**  
Weather: Overcast and Chilly  
Moon: Waning, 1 Day to New Moon (1/4), 16 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

 _-Line Break-_

[X] "I know who you are." [Slowly stand up.]

The words that came out of my mouth stopped it short, pausing mid-stride in its attack. I felt the pipe rattle against the floor in my white-knuckled grip, but I somehow managed to plant myself firmly on my own two feet. Slowly, I brought my face to bear against the full brunt of the creature that wore my face. I must have looked like quite the sight: covered in grape juice, with my arm in a sling, wielding only a steel pipe that served more as a cane, I stood against a monster in every literal and metaphorical sense.

" **oH**?" It drew out the word in a mocking, condescending tone. " **aND WHo aM I eXAcTlY, tAyLOr?** "

Before I even knew it, I felt the words exiting my mouth, my lips moving on their volition.

"You called yourself a Shadow…a Shadow of 'my true self'. And everything you've said is all the bad shit I've tried to bury."

A twitch ran through the entirety of the creature's body. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a feral snarl that twisted her face… _my_ face into a furious scowl. From its response, it hadn't been the answer it had been expecting.

" **wElL nOw** ," It growled. " **iT lOoKS lIKe yOU'vE hAD a ChANgE oF hEArT. bUt WhY nOW? wHaT's tHe rEaSOn bEhInD tHiS rEvERsAL Of ForTuNE?** "

I swallowed, took a deep breath, and responded with as much resolve as I could muster. The words came out, a sentence born of my internal ramblings made audible. "I'm sick and tired of it all. Tired of running from all my problems, sick of putting up with the Trio, and even more tired of running away from you. It's not gonna fix anything. Maybe I can keep on holding on to the prayer for teacher intervention, maybe I can flat out ignore them. But right now, neither of those options are available to me, so if I'm gonna start fixing my life, then I'm gonna start by acknowledging your existence."

Its face contorted once again, and it visibly staggered from the weight of my words. There was a pregnant silence as it recovered its balance and studied me with a severe intensity.

" **iT SeEMs yOu ArE nO LoNGeR A cOWaRd** ," it mused to itself. " **cErtAInLy nOt aFTeR tHiS lITtLe dIsPLaY**."

" **bUt YoU aRE sTiLl a fOoL, tAYlOr HeBErT**."

It came without any warning. There was a horrific noise, like a sound of a wet bag being punctured, and with it came a terrible pain that exploded in my chest. I tried to scream, but all that came out of my mouth was a slew of crimson fluid. My eyes instinctively tracked the source of the pain, a bloody arm stuck deep within my chest. The limb impaled through my body suddenly pulled itself backward, and I fell like a puppet with its strings cut. For all my effort, I couldn't move my arms to cushion the fall, and even then, I barely registered hitting the floor. My thoughts were working at a speed born of desperation and panic, even as I tried to force air down my throat. All that served to do was increase the rate my blood was spilling out onto the ground.

The Shadow grabbed me with its bloody claws, slowly lifting me in the air until our eyes met. Eight red eyes met my own terrified brown, and its lips parted to reveal its massive teeth.

" **iT dOeSN't mATtEr AnYMoRE wHEtHeR yOU'vE aCcEPtEd mE Or nOT** ," it said with a candid tone. The wide smile on its face failed to match the elation in its voice. " **bEcAUse riGhT nOw, i'M aBoUT tO bEcOMe My oWn PeRSoN**."

Its mouth opened, and the serrated teeth began moving to my throat. I couldn't move my body. I'd lost too much blood to accomplish motor functions, but not enough to lose consciousness. All I could do was close my eyes, grit my teeth and steel myself for the inevitable.

...But I couldn't die…not after all of this...

…I'd come so far…

...wasted progress...

…Dad...Mom...

...I don't...want...to...die...

 _-...thick, coiling tendrils...-_

 _-...screams of pain, resisting to no avail-_

 _-...an infinite void reached far beyond the horizon-_

 _-...and a Shadow that casts twilight upon the darkness itself...-_

 _-Line Break-_

When cognitive thought returned to me, the first thing that went through my mind was the fact that I could _still_ think. Then came the chest pain. It wasn't as piercing or as persistent as it had been when I'd been stabbed, but it was still there. Somehow...I was alive.

What had happened? I remember blacking out…that much remained clear. But everything after that was just…gone. Nothing. Gone. Vanished without a trace. Even the wound in my chest, mysteriously healed with no trace save for a jagged tear in my clothing. My arm still hurt like hell, and moving it confirmed that it was still dislocated. I ended up being more annoyed than I should have. Mysterious circumstances and all, but surely fixing my shoulder wasn't too much of an effort to do? I reigned in the dark humor and shoved it to the back of my mind. Now was certainly not the time for any of that.

I bit my lip as I struggled to force myself up. I'd fallen back down on the ground, face-first into the dirt. Precariously balanced with the length of the pipe, I somehow managed to push myself off of the ground. For a moment, I thought I would collapse again, but I regained my balance with no small amount of aid from my improvised weapon, and took account of the scene.

The monster was no more. In its place, a girl who could have passed as my twin stood in a crater, red eyes wide and devoid of emotion as she stared at me. No, not a girl...my Shadow.

[ ] "I'm…I'm sorry for not realizing this sooner…" (Continue where I left off.)  
[ ] "Okay…let's try this again…" (Ready the pipe, _just_ to be sure.)  
[ ] Write in.


	14. 1-14: Acceptance and Awakening

Monday, January 3rd 2011

Time: **?**  
Weather: Overcast and Chilly  
Moon: Waning, 1 Day to New Moon (1/4), 16 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

[X] "I'm…I'm sorry for not recognizing you sooner…"

I could think about the circumstances that lead up to this later. For whatever reason, I'd gotten another chance to say what should have been said. I'd be an idiot not to take it. A dead one too, if I was exceptionally stupid.

For a brief moment, I'd been at a loss for words before they came to me. There was no rehearsal, nor any sort of prior memorization as to what was coming out of my mouth. But despite that, I just _knew_ what words I had to say, what needed to be said. There wasn't any pretense or false meaning behind them. The only thing that came out of my mouth was the truth that I had weaved together over the course of my introspection.

"You weren't wrong when you said that I hate Dad," I admitted, slowly making my way towards her, "Maybe it's justified, maybe it isn't. But in the end, I still love him no matter what."

I paused for breath. The Shadow remained immobile, but there was something in her demeanor that suggested I continue.

"I'll admit that there are days when I want to end it all, even though I desperately want to live. It's hypocritical, but it's only human. And killing myself only proves them right, which is never going to happen."

I finally stood in front of her, no more than six inches away from her face.

"And...earlier," I swallowed, wincing at the phantom pain that clawed at my sternum, "You even admitted it yourself. Calling me a coward is subjective and possibly true to different perspectives, but we know that I'm still willing to give it my all.

"You said that you were everything I tried to bury," I said, gently pulling her into an embrace. "So I guess that means I'm you...and you really are me."

There was only a slight moment of silence before I felt her return my gesture. Unlike the cold chill that I had felt at her introduction, her hands were warm. "I've always wanted to be a hero," she whispered, with a tone of relief audible in her voice. "Thank you…"

 **The strength of heart required to face oneself has been made manifest. You have faced your other self, and emerged the victor despite the odds set against you.**

A soft, blue light began to emit from her body. I released her and stepped back with wonder as I watched her float into the air. Before the radiance of the light grew too unbearable to look at, I could have sworn that there was a genuine smile on her face.

Instead of the monster that she had been before, she had become a flawless union of woman and spider. Gone were the motifs of brute force and inhuman strength; refined elegance and unearthly beauty had taken their place. The lower portion of her body came to resemble that of a black widow, sleek and black in its proportions and shape. An hourglass crest was easily visible on her flank.

Her chest came to meet where the spider's head would have been. The sleeveless raiment she wore was something out of a history textbook, right in the chapter of Greeks and Romans. She held a wooden loom in her hands, with threads of every color set upon the device. Soft brown hair came down to her bare shoulders, revealing a perfectly sculpted face of serene countenance and peace, free of any troubles the world had to offer.

 ** _"_** ** _I am thou, and thou art I…from the sea of thine soul, I cometh…I am the Weaver of Dreams, Arachne…my Other Self…know that my strength shall be yours till the end of days."_**

Her gentle words had only faded in my head when she began to fade away. In her previous place, a card affixed with her image appeared from the light, and slowly came down within arm's reach. It came to land in my outstretched hands, dissolving into motes of blue light upon contact and filling my body with comforting warmth.

 **You have obtained the façade used to overcome life's hardships. The Shadow of your True Self has given rise to the Persona Arachne!**

It didn't take long for the stress and exhaustion of the last few moments to catch up to me. The last thing that I was aware of before I gave into my body's urges was the sound of light footsteps approaching from a distance…

 **{Inverted World} - ?**

The first thing I became aware of was the ascending melody of a grand piano.

It was a gentle, soothing piece. While it was bereft of any complex patterns that were usually in a pianist's repertoire, the notes were hauntingly simple, lingering in the air long after a phrase was complete. I felt a calm wash over me, a sense of peace and serenity that I had not felt in a very long time.

But it still hurt to move, even though the mattress I'd been sleeping on was quite comfortable. Even trying to open my eyes elicited an unrepressed groan from my throat. They closed out of reflex, still unaccustomed to the blue light shining in my face.

Wait a moment. I remember passing out, but where the hell did the mattress come from?

I forced myself to open my eyes, rubbed the water out of their corners, and focused my vision as best as I could.

The room could have been best ascribed to the lobby of a five star hotel. Sofas, couches and even what looked like a dry bar had been set up to the sides and edges of the wall. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting myriad shades of azure across the room. In the distance, I could make out a set of winding staircases traveling to an unseen floor above mine, and a single door tucked away to the side. The furniture, the carpet, the ceiling, even the mattress I was on, all of it was a deep blue.

It took me another moment to realize I wasn't alone. Across from the mattress and beyond a wooden table, there were three other individuals. The first ones that I noticed were the pianist and the singer, respectively a man and woman. Both were formally dressed, more so the woman with her elaborate dress and violet highlighter. To my surprised, the man was blindfolded, but I could hear his fingers strike the keys of his grand piano with pristine precision with his partner's echoing voice.

The last one was…

…was…

"Welcome," a smooth voice intoned, "To the Velvet Room."

…the last of the trio was an elderly man. He was distressingly thin, almost skeletal in his appearance, clad in an immaculately pressed black tuxedo with white gloves. Hunched in his seat at the end of a round table, he was completely bald save for the fringes of white hair on the sides and back of his head. I could have gone on about how his eyes were wide open and bloodshot, how the end of his ears came to form sharp points, or how unnaturally wide his smile was.

But perhaps his most noticeable feature was the long nose he sported. It's not a hyperbole when I say that it was at least a foot in length. It honestly resembled more like a flesh-colored beak than a sensory organ.

Something must have shown on my face, because his smile widened. "Do not be alarmed," he assured me with a light chuckle. "Though you lost unconsciousness while awakening to your power, your body is safely resting in the real world. So there is no cause to be distressed. You are perfectly safe here."

"Ah, but where are my manners? My name is Igor," he said with a slight bow, "And I am most delighted to make your acquaintance, young lady."

[ ] "Wh...where exactly is 'here'?"  
[ ] "My…power?"  
[ ] Write-in.


	15. 1-15: A Choice

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.15 - A Choice

-  
Monday, January 3rd 2011

Time: **?**  
Weather: Overcast and Chilly  
Moon: Waning, 1 Day to New Moon (1/4), 16 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

 _-Line Break-_

[X] "Wh…where exactly is here?"

I didn't think it was possible for his smile to widen. "This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "And only those who have signed the **Contract** are granted permission to enter."

I let his words sink in, trying my hardest not to stare too long at his face as I nodded blankly. I had the slight kind of headache that came with waking up from a short nap, but I wasn't that far out of it to make no sense of the conversation.

So I wasn't dreaming. I was…somewhere else, allegedly between "dream and reality" if Igor's words were anything to go by. I'd read about this on the internet. There were capes that were capable of creating sub-dimensions within reality. Were these people also parahumans? It seemed to be the most conclusive thing I could draw together with what I'd been presented with. Even if it was such the case, what would a group of parahumans want with me-

I froze. My mind caught up with the other words that he had said. "Contract?"

I didn't mean to say it out loud. Igor snapped his fingers, and a leather-bound folder appeared on the table. With a wave of his wrist, it opened to a wrinkled and _very_ familiar piece of paper delicately affixed to the sleeve.

 _ **Contract**_

 _ **Destiny is imminent; it comes for us whether we desire or deny its presence.  
We cannot hide from its sight, nor escape from its wide reach.  
But take comfort, for the end of the journey is never set in stone.  
Man's fate is in his hands.**_

 _ **I,** **Taylor Hebert** **, chooseth this fate of my own free will.**_

The first thing that went through my mind was the fact that Igor was apparently a telekinetic or Mover of some sort, confirming my earlier theory of being in the presence of capes. The next thing that processed was that a piece of paper I knew I'd left haphazardly tossed in my desk drawer was staring me right in the face and in the possession of somebody I'd never met.

I couldn't keep the fear out of my voice. With that said, I like to think I did a good job of hiding my unease and trepidation. "…who are you people? What do you want with me?"

It may have been a trick of the myriad lights, but for a moment, it appeared that Igor's smile softened for a brief moment. "As I said before, there is no need to worry," he assured me in what I assumed to be a relaxing tone. "We are merely individuals that provide services for those that have awakened to their **Power** and will undertake a great **Journey**."

I relaxed somewhat at that, but it didn't do anything to stop the uneasy feeling in my stomach. Even if they meant no ill will or harm towards me, that still didn't wipe away the fact that I didn't know where I was, and that he hadn't answered my question beyond what he'd said earlier. As for providing services...was this some kind of shady underworld deal-

Wait a moment. "Powers?" I breathed. He mentioned them before, when I was still somewhat out of it. I didn't make much of it at first, though. But now that I've had the time to think about it, as well as the proper cognitive processing, all my thoughts were shoved to the side as I immediately changed topics. "Wait...you said I have powers... are you telling me...I'm a..." -here, I swallowed before continuing with a barely contained elation- "...a parahuman?"

Igor seemed to think for a moment before delivering a reply. "Your **power** is very different than what your world perceives as... _'parahuman'_ ," he said the word with a careful inflection, "But irregardless, your power still seperates you from what mortal men and women could ever hope to achieve. So yes, you are indeed what many would refer to as parahuman."

...holy shit.

I had powers.

I, Taylor Hebert, had powers.

I...I was parahuman!

Igor cleared his throat, and I brought my attention back to him. He continued, "Your **power** is that of ' **Persona** ', the ability to summon the other selves that lie within you. Think of it as one of many sides of yourself that shows itself to the world around you, the facades of determination one wears to face various difficulties in life."

My elation gave way to confusion. "…Per...sona?" Summoning the other selves? What the heck did that even mean?

"It may take some time to fully comprehend," he admitted, "But in its simplest terms, a **Persona** is a manifestation of your psyche, a mask to face hardships in life. Now, if you will excuse me..."

A bony hand stretched out across the table and made a beckoning gesture. I felt a tugging sensation within my chest, as if something inside of me was struggling to come out. It wasn't painful as much as it was disconcerting. A pool of light appeared above my heart, and my eyes opened wide to a card exiting my chest.

"Arachne...?"

I easily recognized the image on the card that my Shadow had become. The impressions of her body were too iconic for me to not take notice. Her card gently floated in the air towards Igor's outstretched hand, where upon reaching it, became subject to an intense scrutiny.

"It appears that Arachne has answered your call," he noted. "The weaver that surpassed the gods and was punished for her supposed insolence. She is of the Fool, numbered 'Zero' in the Major Arcana, and one many 'other selves' that lie within your soul."

Save for the descriptor of Arachne and a few other tidbits, I couldn't make a heads or tails out of his other words. Fool and Arcana well enough had to do with Tarot. I remembered that much from the other day.

 _"Your future holds the Tower and the Fool, the immediate and the overall. Should you overcome the first of many disasters, a new point in your life's story shall commence, the beginning of a strange_ _ **journey**_ _into a brave new world."_

Extrapolating from that memory and the present circumstances, everything was slowly coming into a clearer image. The fortune teller and the…residents of the Velvet Room had to have been connected somehow. Both his and Igor's words were matching up way too many times for it to be a pure coincidence.

He made another gesture, and the card began the process of hovering back to me. It entered inside of my chest, and I felt a familiar warmth and comforting presence spread throughout my body. "Take this with you."

With another wave of his hand, a small mote of light hovered above the table. It faded away to reveal a blue key. The insignia of a mask was prominently displayed on both sides of its head. For another few seconds, it hovered in the air before it disappeared. I felt a sudden weight in my pocket, a pressure on my upper thigh that hadn't been there before.

 **Acquired Velvet Key.**

"The key is proof of your contract with us, and will allow you to access our services for the duration of your **Journey** ," he explained. "From this moment onward, you are a guest of this Velvet Room. All we ask is but one thing in return: that you abide by the contract and assume responsibility for all decisions you may make."

I was definitely sure now. There had to be a connection between the Velvet Room and the fortune teller.

But before I could interrupt to ask a question, Igor continued, "Now, then...time marches on in your world. I shouldn't keep you here any longer than necessary. The next time we shall meet will be of your own accord. Until then, I bid you farewell…"

The familiar sense of fatigue and mental exhaustion came back, and I did as best as I could to stay awake. But I couldn't fight it no matter how hard I last thing before everything went black was the unanswered question that sill hung in my mind.

 _Who was the fortune teller?_

 _=? to Morning=_

-  
Tuesday January 11th, 2011

Time: Morning  
Weather: Overcast  
Moon: 9 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

Status: Sick  
-

 _-Line Break_

My eyes slowly opened to an unfamiliar ceiling.

Instead of the deep blue that had previously greeted me, the environs I'd awakened to were a sterile white. I tried to move to get a further range of vision, but doing that proved to be extremely difficult. My body felt like it was laden down by an invisible weight, and my mind was filled with a dull throbbing that hindered my ability to think.

The best I could manage was rotating my neck from side to side. Even that caused a mild discomfort that agitated the aching pains all over my body. But despite the limited range, I was still able to take in my immediate surroundings.

Even with the headache, a cursory glance told me that I was in a hospital room. I'd seen enough late-night TV to know what one looked like. The medical equipment was there, the one that dripped into my veins and the one took my vitals. I could never remember whether or not it was an ECG or an EKG. It chirped along with the throbbing I felt in my head and in my chest.

The room was furnished sparsely, with a couch and a stool as the only notable pieces of furniture save for an abstract painting that hung on the wall. The plaid window curtains had been drawn back to give me a view of Brockton Bay's downtown area in all of its noir glory.

There was a nightstand beside my bed. Within a small vase, an assortment of fresh flowers had been carefully arranged to face the direction of my head. Whoever left them there had done so recently. There were no dead petals lying around the container, and their colors were filled with vibrant life, a sharp contrast to my pale skin. A post-it taped to the ceramic bore the words _"Get well soon- Dad"_ in a rough script.

It hurt a little bit to think beyond observation, but I still managed to recall what had happened to me to waking up.

I felt my breath hitch at the images and impressions of the locker, the claustrophobic darkness and the smell of rot and decay. Their laughter is there, too, the familiar jeers and mocking words. The lingering sensation of slime and millions of tiny feet caressing my skin continued to haunt my body. I felt my throat constrict and I tried to swallow. But my mouth was dry, and all the attempt brought me was a series of coughing noises.

Even as I struggled to control my body, the memories continued. The ruined city, the spider, the shadow and the Velvet Room residents all came by me in a rush of information. I couldn't discern anything too carefully on account of my headache. Once it was gone, I probably would be able to, but as it was, I had to settle for half-impressions.

...it all seemed too surreal, like the product of a fever dream.

But then I felt the weight in the breast pocket of my gown, and the key that Igor had given me.

It...it was all real-

"She's awake!"

It was too painful for me to move my head in reactionary surprise. Before I could even muster the strength to slowly rotate my neck, I felt my body enveloped in a tight hug. The sensation was electric. Compared to the softness of the bed sheets, this was crushing and constricting. I could still breathe, but the weight on my chest wasn't making it easy.

But his shouting made my headache worse. I could already feel the throbbing intensify, growing more painful with every pulse. If what I felt before was like a mallet tapping on my head, then the sensation now was more like a vice crushing my skull.

"Mister Hebert!" I blinked, and a stern Asian woman in her forties came running after the man embracing me. She was a nurse, if her clipboard and hospital scrubs were anything to go by. "This is a hospital, and I will not have you causing a scene, especially in the ICU of all places! There are steps to be taken-"

I could feel the reluctance in the grip that slowly loosened itself from me, but continued to maintain contact with my hand in a soft grip. As she proceeded to read the man the riot act, my eyes flickered to analyze who was holding me. Even as my vision began to tunnel, I still got a clear image. He was tall and thin, with dark hair that was slowly balding. There were visible lines under his eyes caused by prolonged exhaustion, and the glasses he wore did nothing to hide them.

Dad...

...I...

 ** _"Daddy dearest always had temper issues...but the reality is, you haven't quite forgiven him for yelling at Mommy's cold. Dead. Body. Right in front of your eyes."_**

 _"_ _Maybe it's justified, maybe it isn't. But in the end, I still love him no matter what."_

...I...

[ ] "..." Say nothing. I'm in no condition to talk, but I'll be able to talk to him when I get some (more) rest.

[ ] (Squeeze his hand) It's a small gesture, and the only thing I can do, but it is what it is.


	16. 1-16: Hierophant

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

A/N: Next chapter is an Interlude.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

1.16 - Hierophant

-  
Tuesday, January 11th, 2011

Time: Morning  
Weather: Overcast  
Moon: 9 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

Status: Sick  
-

 _-Line Break-_

[X](Squeeze his hand.) It's a small gesture, and the only thing I can do, but it is what it is.

My fingers curled up against Dad's, tightening around his soft grip. He visibly jumped, turning his eyes from the nurse towards mine with a shocked look on his face.

I didn't want to know how I looked like when I smiled. I must have made quite the sight. Strapped onto a hospital bed with all sorts of wires and tubes sticking on and going into my body. By every right, I wasn't supposed to express any sort of joy. But I was still happy. Dad was with me.

Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. "Taylor…" I heard him whisper before he cleared his throat and inhaled sharply. "It's going to be alright, okay? I promise, kiddo…"

The sound of shattering glass suddenly filled the room. At first, I thought something nearby had broken. My eyes broke away from Dad and darted to pinpoint the source of the noise. Just as I was about to ask him what had happened, I realized that he wasn't moving.

He wasn't the only one either. The nurse, the display on the nearby machines, even the blurred figures I could see in the hall past the doorway: everything and everyone had suddenly become immobile. It was as if time had just suddenly stopped.

Before joy could give way to panic, a card slowly materialized into view, and turned my anxiety into confusion. It bore the symbol of the Velvet Room on its back. It was similar in shape and dimension to Arachne's card, but as soon as it flipped over, I realized that they weren't the same.

The image on the card was that of an arrow with three horizontal bars near the top. Their length diminished and shortened as the bars went higher. A pair of keys was positioned at the highest corners, the left corner's going up and the rightmost one pointing down. Two people seated in the lower corners appeared to be praying.

My eyes widened as a voice suddenly echoed throughout the room in a solemn tone:

 _Thou art I…and I am thou…  
Thou hast established a new bond…_

 _It paves the way to thine destiny…_

 _Thou shalt be blessed when creating  
Personas of the _**_Hierophant_** _Arcana..._

The card disappeared into a blue light. Pulsing softly, it floated towards me and entered into my chest. It felt warm…comforting, even. Better than any pain relief medication I'd ever taken in my life.

 **You have established the Danny Hebert Social Link of the Hierophant Arcana!**

 **You may earn an EXP bonus when creating Personas of the Hierophant Arcana!**

But what was that? What had happened?

That was...probably something I would have to ask Igor the next time I saw him. Whenever that would be.

Time suddenly resumed. The beeping noise of the heart monitor continued to drone, and the nurse came running towards the opposite side of the bed. Her hand flew across her clipboard, audibly scribbling across the paper in a frantic hand.

That was all I was able to see before tunnel vision and exhaustion began to return, courtesy of the headache currently plaguing my skull. I could feel my body insisting that I go back to sleep for a very long time. It sounded like such a tempting idea given how much had happened, and how much I'd been hurt.

It seemed odd that I would go back to sleep, given how many times this had happened. There was certainly an odd humor to be derived by it. I'd passed out two times only to be awoken to a docile Shadow and the denizens of the Velvet Room. A third time was reaching into the realms of incredulity.

The first time had been due to blood loss. The second, extreme fatigue that suddenly wracked my body. What was the cause for going to sleep this time? Was it the drugs possibly running through my body, the bottles of which were perched on the bedside table? Or was it my mind throwing it's hands up and simply giving up until I'd fully recuperated from the day's events?

Regardless, I surrendered myself to the fatigue and closed my eyes once more. The last thing I was aware of before my consciousness truly shut down was the lull of the machines, and the soft feeling of a hand gently holding mine.

In the deep recesses of my mind, I dreamed of better times.

Though when I would eventually awaken, I would be incapable of remembering if they were of times that had passed, or times that have not yet come to pass.

* * *

Please customize Arachne:

(Tutorial)  
Strength – Effectiveness of Persona's Physical Attacks  
Magic – Effectiveness of Persona's Magic Skills  
Endurance – Affects a Persona's defensive abilities.  
Agility – Affects a Persona's Hit/Evasion abilities.  
Luck – Affect's the possibility of the Persona performing critical hits and evading attacks.

 **HP/SP Relation:**  
[ ] Greater HP/Lesser SP  
[ ] Balance  
[ ] Lesser HP/Greater SP

 **Stats Distribution:**  
[ ] Jack-of-All-Stats (All stats start at 2)  
[ ] Fragile Speedster (Enhanced MAG/AGI, reduced STR/END)  
[ ] Lightning Bruiser (Enhanced STR/AG, reduced Mag/LUC)  
[ ] Magic Knight (Enhanced STR/MAG, reduced END/LUC)  
[ ] Mighty Glacier (Enhanced STR/END, reduced MAG/AGI)

 **Starting Skills/Skill Build:**  
[ ] Master of None ("Protagonist")  
Cleave (Deals light Slash damage to one foe. Power: 30)  
Tera (Deals light Earth damage to one foe. Power: 50)  
Rakukaja (Raises ally's Defense for 90 seconds.)

[ ] Fighter ("Atoner")  
Power Slash (Deals light slash damage to one foe. Power: 88)  
Evil Smile (Instills Fear in one foe. (25% chance)  
Rakunda (Decrease one foe's Defense for 90 seconds.)

[ ] Black Belt ("Dragon")  
Sonic Punch (Deals light Strike damage to one foe. Power: 70)  
Tera (Deals light Earth damage to one foe. Power: 50)  
Tarukaja (Raises ally's Attack for 90 seconds.)

[ ] Rogue ("Boxer")  
Twin Shot (Deals light Strike damage to one foe 2x. Power: 100)  
Tera (Deals light Earth damage to one foe. Power: 50)  
Poismia (Inflict Poison status to one foe. 25% chance.)

[ ] Black Mage ("Fencer")  
Tera (Deals light Earth damage to one foe. Power: 50)  
Marin Karin (Inflict Charmed status to one foe. 25% chance)  
Dia (Slighty restore one ally's HP.)

[ ] Red Mage ("Hero")  
Tera (Deals light Earth damage to one foe. Power: 50)  
Dekaja (Nullifies stat bonuses on all foes. Affects both Shadows and Capes)  
Dia (Slighty restore one ally's HP.)

[ ] White Mage ("Traditional")  
Tera (Deals light Earth damage to one foe. Power: 50)  
Dia (Slighty restore one ally's HP.)  
Patra (Dispels Rage, Fear, and Confusion for one ally.)


	17. Interlude 1: The Shadow

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute.

A/N: This one was hard to churn out for what could be summed up as a combination between researching Greek Mythology, Ancient World History, and my previous semester's finals. But at any rate, we now return to your regularly scheduled questing. I hope you've all had a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**  
 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Crossover Quest)_

 **Interlude 1 – The Shadow**

The hard sound of knocking at the door brought [Taylor] out of her trance. For the briefest of moments, she experienced a sudden vertigo as she stood from her seat, nearly stumbling until her hand found purchase against a nearby table. She blinked, shaking her head as she reoriented herself.

From outside the window, she could see that the sun was already at its highest point. There were only a few clouds scattered throughout the sky. It was, by all accounts, a perfect mid-summer afternoon. The passage of time had progressed since she had sat down at the loom after breakfast. It had only seemed like a few minutes ago that she had sat down to weave.

Father had business with a traveling merchant, who had come forty-five milon from Ephesus to barter for wool dyed with the Phoenician murex. He would most likely return only when the sun came underneath the Aipos Mountains. She was master of the modest family house until the appointed time came to pass.

Idmon of Colophon had used his wealth to secure great swathes of land for the herds to graze, for shepherds and hunting dogs to protect the flocks. The murex shells borne by merchants of Phoenicia were likewise expensive, and had been where the majority of their finances were spent. There were no servants to announce the arrival of a guest. Thus, it came upon [Taylor's] responsibility to greet the unexpected arrival.

The two of them lived humble lives. They were content to eschew the rich manors that others of lordly status or wealth maintained. Their single-story house was nothing to take _too_ much pride in, but it was theirs, built by their own hands when mother had been alive, and that was enough for both of them.

The sight of an old woman greeted [Taylor] when she opened the door. Shrouded in a simple black cloak that clung to her bony frame, she stood precariously on the doorstep with the aid of a gnarled walking stick.

She was the very definition of crone, and looked no different from the elders who gathered together in the town square to draw water and discuss the latest rumors circulating among the townsfolk. Her hair was white, thin and wispy as it spilled down her winkled face in an unruly mess. She was frightfully thin, almost like a reed by the riverside where the sheep would drink, and looked as if a particularly violent sneeze would bowl her over.

 _"Are you the one that they call [Taylor]?"_ The elder's voice was little more than a reedy whisper. " _The one who weaves the most beautiful pieces in the entirety of Maeonia? I'm afraid my eyesight is failing me, and I cannot see you clearly…"_

Looking down at her, [Taylor] wondered how she could have found the house all by herself. Milky cataracts all but masked the pupils of her eyes, and it seemed unlikely that she could see out any more clearly than anyone else could see in.

Nevertheless, she responded politely. " _Yes, grandmother. I am indeed the one of whom they speak."_

The elder smiled, revealing a mouth that was missing a large majority of its teeth. What little bones remained were practically yellow and had a faint sheen to them. _"Ah, I spent many moments wondering if I had been given wrong directions from those children along the road. I am glad to see that their honesty and my patience have brought me to the one I seek."_

The only sign of discomfort she allowed herself to display was a small twitch from her foot. Nevertheless, tradition bade her invite her guest inside. Let it not be said that Idmoneon [Taylor] be without her manners for playing host.

" _Come in, and please make yourself comfortable."_ She said, offering a hand up the step. _"You must be exhausted from walking around in the middle of this awful heat."_

Together, they walked towards the area set aside for eating and drinking. She fetched a pair of containers and poured fresh water from a vase set aside in the corner of the room.

 _"Please drink."_ [Taylor] said, pressing a cup to her hands. _"I cannot claim to know every man or woman in this city, but I can surely know that you have come a long way, despite the heat of summer bearing down upon us."_

" _Indeed, you are correct, my child."_ The elder accepted it with trembling hands, hands that she helped steady and guide towards her near-toothless mouth. _"_ _Lebedus is a long distance from Colophon to travel. But there are some journeys that must be undertaken."_

The sound of something growling interrupted [Taylor] before she could interject. Though her face had long lost its youthful pallor, the crone was still able to redden slightly in embarrassment.

[Taylor] smiled. _"I was actually about to break for midday meal when you came knocking. Though I cannot offer much, I would be delighted to share my food with you as custom has it."_

After a small prayer to the gods, they broke their fast and began to eat. Their courses were of a higher quality than what she was used to eating. The norm for their second meal of the day was little more than goat cheese and wheat gruel, with a little bit of dried vegetables on the side. Here, [Taylor] had brought out salted lamb and leavened bread, and a small cup of Cretan wine poured from their pantry skin.

As they ate, they discussed many things. They broke their bread over Celephon's history, of the local events and practices unique to the town. Political discourse of distant Sparta and Athens were discussed, and how their rulers sought to bring order to the chaos of their times. And they enjoyed their wine as they mused over Lebedus and the road to and from that distant city.

When they had finished, the crone had asked to see her weavings. That was all she wanted, and then she would return to the road and make the long journey home.

All of her finished textiles from this season hung in an adjacent room, awaiting the next Panathenaea to be offered to the goddess Athena or to be given to one of her many patrons. No two piece could ever have been called alike, each depicting something different in their thread. One displayed a group of shepherds tending their flock in the middle of an idyllic afternoon, while another gave glory to the great deeds of the hero Heracles.

The two of them stopped before a simpler textile, one adorned with bright and vivid patterns that danced across the wool. It was one of [Taylor's] earlier pieces, one that she had kept as a mark for how far she had come since her talent's beginnings. She would have preferred showing something else, something more advanced, but this was the one that had drawn her guest's attention the most.

 _"What a magnificent weaving…"_ The elder murmured, running bony hands across the cloth. _"There is neither coarse fiber nor broken string. And even though age has marred my eyesight, the colors still leap at me with the fullness of life."_

Many men and women from all across Lydia had come and praised her works, and even the nymphs from the River Pactolus were held enraptured by her talent. Though she had received many compliments of similar stock, [Taylor's] cheeks still tinged with red from the praise.

 _"Surely you must have Athena's favor, child. Or even instruction from the goddess herself!"_

It happened again.

Here, [Taylor] sighed, and clenched her hand tightly behind her side. No matter who had come, no matter how awed they were, every single visitor had always referenced the goddess in some way, shape or form. Sometimes, she was an ideal, a reference point for her to follow and aspire to emulate. At other times, her personal tutor. She was unsure which one was more insulting. All were equally bad.

As if she could sense her unease, the elder turned to look at her. " _What is the matter?"_

She took a deep breath before responding. _"Athena has nothing to do with my work. Everything is done with my own hands and no one else's."_

For the first time since she had meet her, the old woman looked shocked. " _My dear, by what could you possibly mean by those words? I meant no offense. It is a great mark of praise to be compared to the goddess._

 _"Not to me. I worship the gods as much as any other would."_ [Taylor] firmly responded. " _But why must I cede the virtue of my hard-practiced talents towards a distant god? I never had Athena as a tutor. I never had her in my mind when I first set thread to my loom. All of my works have been done in the absence of the Olympians."_

 _"My child…"_ The elder's voice took on a tone of concern, of warning. _"What you are saying is near blasphemy."_

 _"Athena is bound to have extraordinary skill at the loom."_ She rebutted. It seemed as if everything she had been keeping bottled up deep inside her had reached a fever pitch. It was impossible not to keep going on. She had to release these feelings from within her. _"That much is known, and I will recognize her talent. Why can she not be satisfied with her own skills and not interfere with my own? Grandmother, you cannot claim to speak on her behalf. Your years undoubtedly speak of great experience, but you do not wear her clergy's robes. I will listen and entertain your words, but certainly no more than that."_

For the longest of times, an uncomfortable silence had descended upon the room. Thinking she had overstepped her bounds in becoming hostile with her guest, [Taylor] was about to apologize before the old woman opened her mouth again.

 _ **"Rumors of your insolence have been greatly exaggerated."**_

The thin whisper had disappeared. In its place, a voice of Power resonated throughout the room, with words that bore a weight to stagger lesser men.

With a speed that no mortal woman of her appearance and stature could ever have done, she leapt from her chair, and tore the white covering from her body in a single swipe. The scraps of cloth fell to reveal that the elder crone was no more.

 _ **"Here, I expected to find a prideful mortal, loudly exalting her name over the gods."**_

Any sign of old age had been wiped away. The wrinkles, the liver spots, the milky cataracts had all but disappeared along with the white sheet. In their place, unparalleled beauty had taken hold of her features, restoring yellowed flesh to a healthy pallor and giving a full set of pearl-white teeth. Her eyes were the grey of clouds on the verge of unleashing lightning upon the world.

Girdled in armor that shone as bright as the sun, she could have barely been called a woman. Her features were too perfect, too far removed from humanity. They shifted constantly underneath her helm, sometimes resembling childhood tutors or matrons from [Taylor's] youth, other times taking on aspects of women she had never seen, but knew of nonetheless. Brave Atalanta, the eternal Muses, and countless others over whom she exerted influence in their lives.

 _ **"Instead, I find a more interesting conundrum presented before me."**_

A goddess stood before [Taylor], in all her divine glory, staring down at her with the regal pride of one befitting her station.

The sound of shattering glass abruptly brought Arachne out of her thoughts, out of the memories attributed to her from her legend and myth.

A **Bond** had been established. That much she could tell from the sudden rush of warmth within the void, and the increase of the blue hue. There was nothing but the soft color of cyan that stretched beyond the horizon as far as the eye could see. As opposed to the prior coloration of black, it was a welcome change.

Daniel Hebert, the Father of her Other Self. A man not unlike her own father, burdened with the duty of raising a daughter while running a business. Though it seemed that the Fates took a more modern approach to making his life miserable.

Their bond would be the first of many steps towards reconciliation. Arachne wished Taylor all the best in that endeavor, hoping that she would succeed with her father where she had failed with Idmon.

It is easy to pass down the sins of the daughter, but everyone forgot about the father that raised her. She could hardly blame Ovid. He did not have to live with the sight of his father going mad with grief, tearing apart their house and screaming her name. That burden was hers to bear for the rest of eternity.

She wanted to tell him that she was still there, that she had not been carried off or abducted. But spiders cannot speak in the languages of men. All they can do is bite and weave to make themselves known.

Biting was out of the question, even long after he had departed to search for her outside. Idmon was more likely to squish her without looking her way than pay attention. Thus, it fell to her other option to weave for her father a message in the spider's web.

But suddenly finding oneself with three more sets of limbs than already necessary was hard enough to maneuver. More than once did she make a mistake as she tried to direct her new appendages. Lacking fingers, all she had was the points of her legs to bring and maneuver the sticky threads together. But she persevered, despite a crippling handicap and near constant mistakes. If there was one thing that she would pray to the gods for that day, it was to expedite her speed in constructing her last message.

When Arachne had almost finished, Idmon had returned with a long rope that the herdsmen used to corral the sheep in their pens. Then, he joined her in with his own weaving. He had finished before her, his finished product a noose that he threw upon a rafter, and inspected from atop a wooden stool.

By the time she realized what was going on, there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Spiders do not have the organs to produce tears. Spiders have no means to cry, to scream, to rage. In the darkness of the night, with her father hanging from a knot of his own creation, Idmonian Arachne was left with no means to mourn.

Did she hate Athena? For what the goddess did to her, initially. But she had time to think it out, to process the unforeseen blessings that had come with her metamorphosis. There was much to gain from weaving for all eternity as opposed to rotting in the Fields of Asphodel in complete and utter ignomity. There was no harm in being immortalized in epic literature, even though inaccurate and in obvious bias towards the gods.

But for letting Idmon kill himself, yes she did. That was one crime against the goddess she would never forgive, and would bear for all eternity until the cosmos was no more and time ceased to have meaning.

Arachne scowled, looking over the current threads set on her loom. There was nothing wrong with the textile per se, but it was a piece that came to life as she reminisced on bad memories. Still, a weaving was still a weaving, and so she began the final process of bringing the lengths of string together. No work of hers could ever go unfinished.

Next time, she would work on bringing something more…soothing out of the silken threads. It was all she could do to keep her mind from straying towards negative thoughts.

She was the sole occupant of this vacant space, this estuary of the human soul. Some would have called it a lonely existence. She would not. There was comfort to be found in the tranquil silence, as she meditated on her thoughts of recent events.

This place was only a small pool of the greater whole, a bay within the Sea of Souls. Given time, others would join. Heroes and monsters, gods and demons, from all corners of the earth would come to make this place theirs, to be called upon in times of hardship.

She was the Shadow of Taylor, which was to say that she was Taylor Hebert. Yet she was also Arachne, daughter of Idmon and challenger of Pallas Athena, Weaver of Dreams and Mother of Spiders. All those epithets and more were to describe her being.

It certainly was an odd existence to be caught between. Two sets of memories existed from which to draw identity from, intermingling with each other to form a neigh incomprehensible whole. The booming laughter of Idmon at the dinner table proved to be a stark contrast to the soft voice of Annette, who would read her stories before bedtime.

But at the end of the day, she was an existence greater than the sum of her wholes. Arachne was Taylor and Taylor was Arachne. It was a simple as that for her.

Not so for her Other Self.

She said it herself. Accepting her own faults didn't mean that they would simply go away. That was the first step of dealing with problems, and she had many to overcome. It was almost disheartening to see that little much had changed over the millennia in how mean-spirited and heartless humans could be to each other.

Arachne knew better than most. She had those memories. She _was_ Taylor. She hurt from every insult and thrown piece of fruit just as much as she did. And the wounds they made left scars that no health salve could ever heal.

Taylor did not remember what had happened prior to accepting her. Arachne knew that much from observing her thoughts and memories. All her Other Self knew was brief impressions and incoherent images amidst the near-embrace of death in that Parallel World.

Thus, Taylor was spared the sight of her babbling in an eldritch tongue, of her eyes rolling up behind her skull as wisps of darkness bled from every wound in her body. She did not remember the cold, oily tendrils that wrapped around her Shadow's body, nor the thousand maws across those limbs that laughed maniacally as they crushed the spider.

There was no need to cause any more undue duress that necessary. Her Other Self was troubled enough as it was. Arachne would keep the secret safe. It was something to be worried about for another day, for another time.

So, the Weaver of Dreams let her Fool rest and dream good dreams, and returned to weaving another piece as she waited. That much she owed Taylor after today's harrowing events. There would be plenty of time to have a full discussion of what it meant to be a Persona-user, and the responsibilities that came with her new power.

* * *

Taylor has to stay in the hospital for a week, and must undergo some mandatory psychotherapy while being medicated on some strong antibiotics. In that time, you may choose how she can spend her time in-between meetings with the therapist. You may also propose other options that I reserve the right to veto.

[ ] Have Dad get schoolbooks from home and study homework in bed. You can't afford to fall behind any more than necessary. [Increases Knowledge and Dilligence]

[ ] Watch day-time/late-night TV. You deserve some R&R after what you've been through. [Increases Understanding and Courage/Expression]

[ ] Write-in.


	18. 2-1: Recovery Time

This is a Story-Only archive dump for a quest I'm running on Spacebattles. If you wish to participate, please go over there and contribute. A link to my SB account is on my profile page for your convenience.

A/N: Writing quests on 4chan proved to be a very interesting exercise in writing under pressure and developing a narrative over the course of only a few hours. I think that it definitely improved my skills, but at the cost of nearly burning myself out. So, I return here to update what I first started.

Belated Happy New Years, guys.

Also: bear puns are explicitly forbidden. Keep a sharp eye on the lookout for typos and formatting errors.

* * *

 **Butterfly Effect**

 _(A Worm/Shin Megami Tensei: Persona Quest)_

2.1 - Recovery Time

Thursday, January, 13th 2011

Time: Afternoon  
Weather: Overcast  
Moon: 7 Days to Full Moon (1/20)

Status: Sick

-Line Break-

I ended up staying in the hospital for the better part of a week, stuck in bed while doped up on a literal cocktail of antibiotics. The doctor assigned to my case wanted to keep me under observation in case any lingering signs of infection resurfaced. MRCA was a viable threat, and he was worried that something in the locker might have gotten into my bloodstream.

I was only semi-coherent for him to explain the first time around. I had spent the first two days virtually comatose before I had regained enough strength to make it through the day without passing out. Side effect of the antibiotics, the nurse had said. To a certain extent, I still felt woozy at certain times, but I could still remain conscious without too much effort.

With that said, I was still lucid enough to see that more cards had joined Dad's on my bedside table. I recognized a few of the names. Kirk, Lacey, Alexander, and lots of Dad's coworkers from the Dockworker's Association had sent their regards, as well as a few flowers and an assorted basket.

Dad had been aghast when Kirk and Lacey swung by to deliver another set of messages and gifts on my third day in the ward. It wasn't too to pretend to be asleep, and even then, I could hear them talking from where they had stood outside the door.

"Danny…" Kirk sighed, and I could see his silhouette rub the back of her head in consternation. "I'm having a hard time trying to understand why you've gotta be so bull-headed on this."

"It's too expensive," Dad shot back. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful, and I'm sure that Taylor is as well. Cards are relatively inexpensive and the fruit basket was a collective effort. But cash gifts? Checks? You can't afford to part with your money for…" Here, I could hear a very noticeable silence in between his words before he muttered with great reluctance, "…unnecessary expenses."

"Unnecessary expe-" Was as far as Lacey incredulous shout was able to go before Kurt cut her off.

"Oh for Christ's sake," He said with more than a slight push in his tone. "Danny, look. We can't ever be thankful enough for you busting your ass for us on a daily basis. It's hard, almost near-thankless work, but you still do it any way with everything you've got. At least let us try and show our appreciation."

"But you can't-"

"Just this once, Danny, okay?" Lacey implored. "We all know how much Taylor means to you. Things are on thin ice as it is without your daughter in the hospital. I don't know any parent who doesn't receive joy from their child's own happiness."

Kurt seemed to be in sync with his wife. He picked up immediately after she finished before Dad could get in a word. "You've always been happiest whenever Taylor's smiling, Danny. As far as we're concerned, she's a part of our extended family of workers. Both of you are going through a rough patch right now, but it's our duty to look out for each other, alright? So just accept it for all of our sakes."

I could see Dad's shadow moving his hands before he threw them up in the air in resignation. "…alright. Fine. You win. I…thank you," He mumbled softly. "Just…be sure to tell them that I'm grateful. And that Taylor is too."

By the time the three of them had gone and I could safely move around, there were wet streaks on the pillow where I'd laid my face against. I grabbed a tissue to wipe the dried rehum from the corners of my eyes and clean the streaks of moisture running down my cheek.

It took me a few breaths to compose myself. Once I did, I lay back down on the bed and stared with content out the window. Feeling someone else give a damn…it was a nice feeling.

 **Obtained $250 in get-well gifts!**

If there was any silver lining in my stay at the hospital, it would be that the food wasn't as bad as the urban stories go, and that it was nice to have some private, uninterrupted time with myself. I was the calmest I've ever been since the beginning of freshman year. I was merely content to just lay back and thing about nothing in particular.

Eventually, boredom got the better of me after I counted the number of flowers on the ceiling for the umpteenth time. I could feel the beginnings of stir-crazy starting to set in, and I'd already read through the backlogged subscription magazines that were in the lounge.

 **[x]** **Watch day-time/late-night TV.** **You deserve some R &R after what you've been through**. [Increases Understanding and Courage/Expression]

For a second, I had contemplated asking for school textbooks before deciding against it. I'm currently swimming in an antibiotic cocktail and fighting against the lingering remnants of an infection. I was already exerted enough as it is without the unnecessary complication of school work.

And even then, I wanted my thoughts to get as far away from Winslow as possible. Maybe it was irresponsible of me to not keep up with the class studies as the new semester continued to roll out. But right now, all I could say was fuck those responsibilities.

I had been trapped in a locker with septic waste, chased through a post-apocalyptic version of Brockton Bay and impaled by a spider-monster that claimed, and turned out, to be me.

Tell me that the shit I've been through doesn't deserve some actual rest and relaxation.

"Hey, Dad, can you pass me the remote? The one for the TV? I think it's the one…right over there."

Daytime TV doesn't have the best of interesting line ups, especially during the weekdays when most people would be either at work or in school. Soap operas or stay-at-home-spouses, workout programs, infomercials and the ever-present news were the primary shows that were dominating the late morning/early afternoon primetime.

I didn't stay long on any of the channels, changing to a different one every ten/twenty minutes or so. Dad would occasionally make a remark concerning whatever was airing or a quiet chuckle at something particularly funny. Other than that, we spent the time watching television in a comfortable, but not awkward, silence.

 **Your Understanding has somewhat increased!**

 **Your Expression has somewhat increased!**

 **Your relationship with Danny Hebert has intensified!**

 **Your relationship with Danny Hebert could become closer soon.**

We were halfway through _A_ _New Hope_ when someone had knocked on the door. It was Cynthia, but there was a man behind her that I didn't recognize. He was heavy-set, but with more muscles than fat on his body, and had a stern and analytical looks about his face. Underneath the heavy parka, I could make out the uniform of a Brockton Bay police officer, radio, badge, and all.

"Afternoon," he said with a slight incline of the head and a hand offered to Dad. "I'm Officer Parkman, Mister Hebert, Miss Hebert, and I'm with the Brocton Bay police department's Criminal Investigations Division."

Dad took the offered hand and shook it with a tentative grip. "…how can I help you, Officer?"

"Witness statement, sir. We normally try to obtain these things as soon as possible as timing is very sensitive, but due to the ill health of your daughter, none of our officers were able to come in the last two days. Your nurse was kind enough to let us know that Taylor was in a more stable and lucid condition than she was a few days ago.

"That is, of course," He paused for a moment to address me directly. "If she's still under the influence of the painkillers or any other mind-affecting drugs."

I shook my head. "Just antibiotics to fight the infection. Sir," I added just to play it safe. "Aside from a stomach ache, I'm perfectly fine."

His mouth slightly curved upwards in a small smile. "Glad to hear it. From the doctor's report we have back at the department, I would've expected at least another few days before you were available for questioning. You're tougher than you look."

I shifted awkwardly at the praise. "Uh…thank you…"

Parkman pulled up a stool, grabbed something that looked like a Walkman recorder, and pressed the "record" button on the device. "Whenever you're ready," he said, holding the mic end of the machine out to me. "Start from the beginning and tell me what you can remember."

Barring the whole bit about the…other world, my Shadow, Persona and the Velvet Room denizens, I decided to give…

[ ] A full account of what happened and my prior history, explicitly naming the names of the Trio  
[ ] A full account of what happened and my prior history, but without explicitly naming the Trio.


End file.
